'^ 


Pictures  of  Hellas 


FIVE  TALES  OF  ANCIENT  GREECE 


BY 


PEDER   MARIAGER 


TRANSLATED  FROM   THE  DANISH 

IIY 

MARY    J.  SAFFORD 


NEW  YORK 

"WILLIAM    S.  GOTTSBEIiGEK,    PUBLISHER 

I  I    MURRAY    STREET 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1888 

By   WILLIAM   S.  GOTTSBERGER 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington 


TRANSLATOR'S   PREFACE. 


The  author's  preface  to  "  Pictures  of  Hellas "  is 
so  full,  that  the  translator  has  nothing  to  add  to  the 
English  version  except  the  acknowledgment  of  valu- 
able assistance  rendered  in  "  the  obscure  recesses  of 
Greek  literature "  by  Professor  Andrews,  Ph.  D.  of 
Madison  University. 

Mary  J.  Safford. 


PREFACE. 


Nearly  all  the  more  recent  romances  and  dramas, 
whose  scene  is  laid  in  classic  times,  depict  the  period 
of  the  great  rupture  between  Paganism  and  Christi- 
anity. This  is  true  of  "  Hypatia,"  "  Fabiola,"  "  The 
Last  Days  of  Pompeii,"  "  The  Epicureans,"  "  The  Em- 
peror and  The  Galilean,"  "  The  Last  Athenian, "  and 
many  other  works.  The  cause  of  this  coincidence  is 
not  difficult  to  understand;  for  a  period  containing 
such  strong  contrasts  invites  aesthetic  treatment. 

The  present  tales  derive  their  material  from  a 
different,  but  no  less  interesting  epoch.  They  give 
pictures  of  the  flowering  of  Hellas,  the  distant  centuries 
whose  marvellous  culture  rested  solely  on  the  purely 
human  elements  of  character  as  developed  beneath  a 
mild  and  radiant  sky. 

Yet  it  required  a  certain  degree  of  persistence  to 
procure  this  material.  When  we  examine  the  Greek 
writers  to  find  descriptions  of  the  men  of  those  times 
or  the  special  characteristics  of  the  social  life  of  the 
period,  Greek  literature,  so  rich  in  accounts  of  histori- 
cal events,  becomes  strangely  laconic,  nay  almost 
silent. 

How  entirely  different  is  the  situation  of  a  person 


II  PREFACE. 

who  desires  to  sketch  a  picture  of  the  Frenchmen  of 
the  sixteenth  or  seventeenth  centuries.  The  whole  col- 
lection of  memoirs  is  at  his  disposal.  In  these  writ- 
ings the  author  discourses  familiarly  with  the  reader, 
gives  him  lifelike  portraits  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
of  the  court,  and  tells  him  the  most  minute  anecdotes 
of  the  society  of  that  day. 

Greek  literature  has  nothing  of  this  kind.  The  de- 
scription of  common  events  and  the  history  of  daily  ex- 
istence are  forms  of  writing  of  later  origin,  nothing  was 
farther  from  the  minds  of  ancient  authors  than  the  idea 
that  private  life  could  contain  anything  worth  noting. 
Herodotus  and  Thucydides  narrated  little  or  nothing  of 
what  the  novelists  of  the  present  day  seek,  nay,  even 
among  the  orators  only  scattered  details  are  found,  and 
strangely  enough  there  are  more  in  the  speeches  of 
Lysias  than  of  Demosthenes. 

Among  the  poets  Aristophanes  produces  a  whole 
gallery  of  contemporary  characters,  but  indistinctly  and 
in  vague  outlines;  they  were  what  would  now  be 
called  "  originals  from  the  street  "  who,  during  the  per- 
formance of  his  comedies,  sat  among  the  spectators,  and 
whom  he  only  needed  to  mention  to  evoke  the  laugh- 
ter of  the  crowd.  Something  more  may  be  gathered 
from  Lucian  and  Apuleius,  together  with  the  better 
"  Milesian "  tales,  especially  from  Heliodorus  and 
Achilles  Tatius  while,  on  the  contrary,  the  great  Alex- 
andrian lumber-room,  owed  to  Athenaeus,  contains 
more  gewgaws  of  learning  and  curiosa  than  really 
marked  characteristics. 


PREFACE.  Ill 

In  the  obscure  recesses  of  Greek  literature,  where 
we  are  abandoned  by  all  translators,  and  where  —  as 
everybody  knows  who  has  devoted  himself  to  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  classics  —  only  short,  excursions  can  be 
made,  we  are  sometimes  surprised  at  finding,  by  pure 
accident,  useful  matter.  Dion  Chrysostomus  (VII) 
gives  extremely  interesting  descriptions  of  Hfe  in  the 
Greek  villages  and  commercial  towns.  But  what  is 
discovered  is  always  so  scattered  that  only  a  few  notes 
can  be  obtained  from  numerous  volumes. 

When  I  decided  to  turn  what  I  had  read  to  ac- 
count, I  was  fully  aware  that  a  presentation  of  ancient 
life  in  the  form  of  a  romance  or  novel  was  one  of  the 
most  difficult  aesthetic  tasks  which  could  be  under- 
taken. If,  nevertheless,  I  devoted  myself  to  it,  I 
naturally  regarded  the  work  only  as  an  experiment. 

In  choosing  the  narrow  frame-work  of  short  stories  I 
set  before  myself  this  purpose  —  to  sketch  the  ordinary 
figures  of  ancient  life  on  a  historical  background.  I 
have  —  resting  step  by  step  on  the  classic  writers  —  en- 
deavored to  present  some  pictures  of  ancient  times; 
but  I  have  no  more  desired  to  exalt  former  ages  at  the 
expense  of  our  own  than  the  contrary.  As  to  the  mode 
of  treatment  —  I  have  steadily  intended  to  keep  the 
representations  objective,  and  to  avoid  using  foreign 
words  or  giving  the  dialogues  a  form  so  ancient 
that   they    would   not   be   easy    to   read.  *     The   stiff 

*So  far  as  the  idiomatic  differences  of  the  two  languages  would 
permit,  the  translator  has  endeavored  to  retain  the  simplicity  of  style 
deemed  by  the  author  best  suited  to  his  purpose. 


IV  PREFACE. 

classic  ceremonies,  foot-washings,  etc.,  I  have  almost 
entirely  omitted,  and  the  archaeological  and  historical 
details  have  everywhere  been  subordinated  to  the  con- 
tents of  the  story,  so  that  they  merely  serve  to  give  an 
antique  coloring  to  the  descriptions.  Lastly,  I  have 
believed  that  the  Greek  characters  ought  to  be  com- 
pletely banished  from  the  book,  and  even  from  the 
notes  and  preface. 

After  these  general  remarks  I  must  be  permitted  to 
dwell  briefly  upon  the  different  tales,  partly  to  point 
out  the  authority  for  such  or  such  a  stroke  and  partly 
to  give  some  few  more  detailed  explanations. 

Little  is  known  of  the  Pelasgian  epoch ;  but  it  is  a 
historical  fact  that  a  woman  was  abducted  at  the  foun- 
tain of  Callirrhoe.  On  this  incident  the  first  story 
"  Zeus  Hypsistos  "  is  founded,  and  the  climax  of  Peri- 
phas'  death  is  based  upon  an  ancient  idea :  a  voice  of 
fate.  The  belief  in  Phemai  or  Cledones  is  older  than 
in  that  of  most  oracles,  and  dates  back  to  the  days  of 
Homer.  When  Ulysses  is  wandering  about,  ponder- 
ing over  the  thought  of  killing  the  suitors,  he  prays  to 
Zeus  for  a  sign  and  omen,  a  voice  of  fate,  which  then 
sounds  in  a  thunder-clap  and,  inside  of  the  house,  he 
hears  a  slave-girl  wishing  evil  to  the  suitors.  The  old 
demi-god  Cychreus  of  Salamis  is  mentioned  by  Pau- 
sanias  (I.  t,6).  It  was  a  universal  idea  in  ancient  times 
that  demi-gods  liked  to  transform  themselves  into  ser- 
pents. In  the  battle  of  Salamis  a  serpent  appeared  in 
the  Athenian  fleet;  the  oracle  declared  that  it  was  the 
ancient  demi-god  Cychreus.     In  Eleusis  Demeter  had 


PREFACE.  V 

a  serpent  called  the  Cychrean,  for  Cychreus,  who  had 
either  slain  it  or  himself  assumed  its  form.  For  the  re- 
markable ceremonial  of  purification  after  a  murder 
(page  58),  see  Apollonius'  Argonautica  (IV.  702). 
The  words  :  "  Zeus  was,  Zeus  is,  and  Zeus  will  be  "  are 
borrowed  from  the  ancient  hymn  sung  by  the  Dodo- 
nian  priestesses,  called  Peleiades  (doves.) 

In  "The  Sycophant"  the  notes  cited  on  pages  72- 
73  would  be  valueless,  if  they  did  not  contain  the 
punishments  which,  according  to  Attic  law,  were 
appointed  for  the  transgressions  named. 

Hetaeriae  was  the  name  given  to  secret  societies 
or  fraternities,  where  six,  seven,  or  more  members 
united  to  work  against  or  break  down  the  increasing 
power  of  the  popular  government,  which  was  exerting 
a  more  and  more  unendurable  pressure.  There  were 
many  kinds  of  "  hetaeriae^'  but  the  most  absolute  secrecy 
was  common  to  all.  The  members  were  conspirators, 
pledged  to  assist  one  another  by  a  solemn  oath,  sworn 
by  what  was  dearest  to  them  in  life.  The  harmless 
hetaeriae  comprised  those  who  were  pursuing  no  politi- 
cal object,  but  merely  consisted  of  office-seekers  whose 
purpose  was  to  aid  one  another  in  the  election  to  office 
or  before  the  courts  of  justice.  The  hetaeria  here  de- 
scribed is  of  the  latter  sort;  for  the  delineation  of  a  po- 
litical society  of  this  kind  would  reciuire  a  far  more  ex- 
tensive apparatus  than  could  l)e  contained  within  the 
brief  limits  of  a  tale.  Several  of  the  characters  in 
"  The  Hetaeria  "  have  actually  existed.  The  comedian 
Sthenelus  is  mentioned  by  Aristophanes  [vesp.  1313)  as 


Vf  PREFACE. 

well  as  the  orator  and  tragedian  Acestor  {vesp.  1220; 
aves  31)  both  are  sketched  from  the  more  minute  de- 
tails of  the  Scohastae.  Phanus  is  also  mentioned  by 
Aristophanes  (eqiiit.  1233)  as  Cleon's  clerk.  Among 
the  women  of  the  tale  there  is  also  an  historical 
personage,  the  foreign  witch  Ninus,  who  professed  to 
be  a  priestess  of  the  Phrygian  god  Sabazius.  She  trav- 
elled through  Hellas  at  the  time  of  the  Peloponnesian 
War  and  reaped  a  rich  harvest  by  her  divination  and 
manufacture  of  love  potions;  but  her  end  was  tragical  — 
she  was  summoned  before  the  courts  as  a  poisoner  and 
condemned  to  death  (A.  Schaefer,  Demosth.  I.  199). 
The  main  outlines  of  the  relations  between  Hipyllos 
and  Cleobule  are  taken  from  the  commencement  of 
Cnemon's  story  in  Heliodorus  (I.  2)  and  the  descrip- 
tion of  Sthenelus'  fall  from  the  boards  is  almost  literally 
repeated  from  Lucian  (The  Dream,  26).  The  account 
of  the  naval  battle  at  Rhion  is  an  extract  from  Thucy- 
dides  (II.  86-92). 

"  Too  Happy  "  is  founded  upon  an  ancient  idea : 
the  prayer  for  a  sign  and  the  acceptance  of  an  omen. 
Piracy,  which  plays  a  prominent  part  in  the  narrative, 
was  practised  at  an  early  period  in  the  ^gean  Sea  and 
afterwards  attained  such  dangerous  extent  that  large 
and  magnificent  fleets  of  pirate  cruisers  finally  threat- 
ened Rome  herself  with  intercepting  the  importations 
of  grain  from  Pontus.  It  might  perhaps  be  considered 
too  romantic  for  a  disguised  corsair  to  examine  the  ship 
lying  in  port  before  plundering  her  in  the  open  sea. 
Quite  different    things,    however,    are    reported.     The 


PREFACE.  VII 

Phoenician  pirates  had  secret  agents  who  discovered 
where  a  ship  with  a  rich  cargo  lay  and  promised  the 
helmsman  "  ten-fold  freight  money,"  if  he  would  anchor 
in  some  secluded  place,  behind  a  promontory,  etc., 
where  the  vessel  could  be  overpowered.  (Philostratus, 
vita  ApoU.  Tyan.  III.  24).  The  conclusion  of  the 
story  (the  ladder  hung  outside  of  the  ship  so  that  it 
touches  the  water)  is  taken  from  Plutarch  (Pompeius, 
24). 

In  "  Lycon  with  the  Big  Hand  "  the  artist  Aristeides 
and  what  is  said  of  his  paintings  are  historical.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  traits  of  character  cited  about  the 
tyrant  Alexander  of  Pherae.  Under  the  description  of 
the  earthquake  is  given  an  account  of  what  is  called  in 
seismology  a  tidat  wave.  A  side-piece  to  this  may  be 
found  in  Thucydides  (III.  89)  where  —  after  a  remark 
about  the  frequency  of  earthquakes  during  the  sixth 
year  of  the  Peloponnesian  War  —  it  is  stated  :  "  Among 
these  earthquakes  the  one  at  Orobiae  in  Euboea  dis- 
played a  remarkable  phenomenon.  The  sea  receded 
from  the  shore ;  f/ieti  suddenly  retiirjied  with  a  tremeti- 
dous  wave  and  flooded  part  of  the  coast,  so  that  what 
was  formerly  land  became  a  portion  of  the  sea.  Many 
people  perished." 

In  these  five  stories  the  scene  is  laid  in  Athens,  on 
the  ^gean  Sea,  and  in  Thessaly  —  but,  wherever  it  is,  I 
have  always  endeavored  to  give  the  characters  life  and 
movement,  and  make  them  children  of  the  times  and  of 
the  Hellenic  soil.  I  have  also  sought  to  delve  deeper 
into  the  life  of  ancient  times  than  usually  happens  in 


VIII  PREFACE. 

novels.  Many  peculiarities,  like  the  purification  after 
a  murder  in  the  first  tale,  the  Baetylus  oracle  in 
"  The  Hetaeria,"  and  the  use  of  the  great  weapon  of 
naval  warfare,  the  dolpfmi,  in  "  Too  Happy "  have 
scarcely  been  previously  described' in  any  form  in  our 
literature.  The  belief  in  marvellous  stones  animated 
by  spirits  was  widely  diffused  in  ancient  times,  as  such 
stones,  under  the  name  of  abadir,  were  known  in  Phoe- 
nicia. The  description  of  the  Baetylus  oracle  is 
founded  upon  Pliny  (17,  9,  51),  Photius  (p.  1047)  and 
Pausanias  (X.  24).  It  is  evident  enough  that  the 
stone-spirit's  answer  was  given  by  the  ventriloquist's 
art.  Though  the  ancients  had  several  names  for  ven- 
triloquists, such  as  engastri)Jiythae,  sternomanteis,  etc., 
the  art  was  certainly  little  known  in  daily  life,  it  seems 
to  have  been  kept  secret  and  used  for  the  answers  of 
oracles,  etc.  The  soothsayer  and  ventriloquist  Eury- 
cles,  mentioned  by  Aristophanes,  endeavored  to  make 
the  people  believe  that  a  spirit  spoke  from  his  mouth 
because  he  uttered  words  without  moving  his  lips. 
For  the  dolphin,  the  weapon  used  in  naval  warfare,  see 
Scholia  graeca  in  Aiistoph.  (eqiiit  762)  and  Thucydides 
(VII.  41). 

In  the  ancient  dialogue  I  have  always  endeavored 
to  give  the  replies  an  individual  coloring,  and  it  will  be 
found  that  Acestor  speaks  a  different  language  from 
Sthenelus,  Philopator  from  Polycles,  etc.  Phrases  like  : 
'*  Begone  to  the  vultures,"  "  show  the  hollows  under 
the  soles  of  the  feet,"  "  casting  fire  into  the  bosom," 
etc.,  may  easily  be  recognized  as  borrowed  from  the 


PREFACE.  IX 

classic  writers.  To  enter  into  the  subject  more  min- 
utely would  be  carrying  the  matter  too  far.  Single 
characteristic  expressions,  such  as  palpale  legei?i,  etc. 
cannot  be  reproduced. 

In  introducing  the  reader  to  so  distant  and  alien  a 
world,  it  has  been  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  me 
to  win  his  confidence ;  with  this  purpose  I  have  sought 
by  quotations  to  show  the  authority  for  what  I  have 
written.  Here  and  there,  to  remove  any  doubt  of  the 
existence  of  an  object  in  ancient  times,  I  have  added 
the  Greek  names.  For  the  rest  I  have  everywhere 
striven  to  follow  the  old  maxim  artis  est  celare  artetn. 

Copenhagen,  November  i,  1881. 

P.  Mariager. 


CONTENTS. 


ZEUS    HYPSISTOS,  -            -  .            -            1 

THE    SYCOPHANT,  ...  -                             69 

THE    HETAERIA,  -            -  '            -            "         95 

TOO    HAPPY,  -            .            -  .            .            203 

LYCON    WITH    THE  BIG    HAND,  -            -            -       225 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

Gold-fillet  (Dr.  Schliemann.    Hissarlik,  Troy.)  .....       I 

Dragon  figure  on  a  gold  plate  (Dr.  Schliemann,   Mycenae.).    65 

The  market  of  Athens  at  a  later  period,  about  200  B.  C.  (In 
the  upper  part,  in  the  background,  is  the  Acropolis  with 
the  Parthenon,  the  colossal  statue  of  Athene,  and  the 
Propyla;a.  To  the  left  of  the  centre  is  a  part  of  King 
Attalus'  hall,  afterwards  the  Stoa  Poecile,  the  circular 
Tholus,  and  behind,  the  Bouleuterium.  In  the  fore- 
ground is  a  statue  of  Eirene,  Peace,  with  the  child 
Plutus  in  her  arms ;  in  the  centre  of  the  steps  the  square 
orator's  stage  with  hermae  at  the  corners 69 

Antique  vase  design, 92 

Athens  seen  from  the  road  to  Elejisis.  (In  the  centre  of  the 
picture  the  Acropolis,  with  the  lower  town  in  front,  in 
the  background  Mt.   Hymettus.)  95 

Antique  vase  design, ,      .     ,    199 

The  Aegean  Sea.   (A  large  ploion,  merchant  ship,  followed  by 

a  pirate  craft.    Two  of  the  Cyclades  in  the  background. )    203 

Jienaissance  design, 222 

Coast  scene  in  Thessaly,   (near  Pass  of  Thermopylae,)       .     .   225 

Ancient  jugglers,     (Tlie  figure  at  the  right  is  performing  a, 

"sword  dance.") 318 


ZEUS  HYPSISTOS 


A  TALE  OF  THE  PELASGIAN  PERIOD. 


ZEUS    HYPSISTOS. 


The  region  was  one  of  the  most  noteworthy  in 
Attica.  Manifold  in  variety  were  the  objects  crowded 
together  within  a  narrow  space.  By  the  side  of  riven 
masses  of  rock  appeared  the  smooth  slopes  of  a  moun- 
tain plateau,  and  —  the  centre  of  the  landscape  —  a 
huge  crag  with  a  flat  top  and  steep  sides  towered  aloft 
like  a  gigantic  stone  altar,  reared  by  the  earth  itself  to 
receive  the  homage  and  reverence  of  mankind.  Two 
rivers,  a  wide  and  a  narrow  stream,  flowed  down  its 
sides.  Height  and  valley,  ravine  and  mountain  peak, 
closely  adjoined  each  other,  all  easy  of  access  and  af- 
fording a  surprising  wealth  of  beautiful  views. 

The  spot  had  a  lofty  destination.  Here  temples 
and  pillared  halls,  hermae  and  statues  were  to  appear 


2  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

like  the  marble  embodiment  of  a  dream  of  beauty  in 
the  youth  of  the  human  race ;  from  hence  the  light  of 
intellect  was  to  diffuse  its  rays  over  the  whole  inhabited 
world. 

But  in  the  distant  ages  of  which  we  are  now  speak- 
ing Athens  had  no  existence  even  in  name.  Yet  a 
suburb  of  the  city  afterwards  so  renowned  was  already 
in  course  of  construction.  On  the  Pnyx,  the  Areopagus, 
and  part  of  the  Museium  stood  a  number  of  dwellings, 
and  even  at  the  present  day  traces  may  be  found  on 
these  heights  of  eight  or  nine  hundred  houses,  which 
must  have  lodged  three  or  four  thousand  persons. 

This  city,  founded  by  inhabitants  of  the  island  of 
Salamis,  was  called  Kranaai,  and  its  residents  were 
known  by  the  name  of  Cranai,  dwellers  on  the  heights. 

Nothing  could  be  more  simple  than  these  houses. 
As  may  still  be  seen,  they  consisted  merely  of  a  room 
hollowed  in  the  cliff,  closed  in  front  and  above  with 
clay  and  stones, —  the  latter  seem  to  have  rested  upon 
logs  to  prevent  a  sudden  fall  during  the  earthquakes  so 
frequent  in  this  region.  Here  and  there  small  holes, 
into  which  the  ends  of  the  pieces  of  timber  were  thrust, 
may  still  be  discerned  in  the  cliffs.  Many  of  the  dwell- 
ings were  arranged  in  rows,  rising  like  stairs  one  above 
another,  all  with  an  open  space  in  front  to  serve  as  a 
place  of  meeting  for  the  inhabitants.  These  terraces 
were  connected  by  small  steps  hewn  in  the  rock ;  here 
and  there  appeared  altars,  large  storehouses,  and  tombs, 
the  latter  consisting  of  one  or  more  subterranean  rock 
chambers.     Great  numbers  of  such  sepulchres  are  still 


ZEUS    HYPSISTOS.  3 

found  scattered  over  large  tracts  of  the  ancient  cliff- 
city. 

Other  remains  of  masonry  may  be  seen  in  the  holes 
in  the  earth  made  to  collect  rain-water.  More  than 
twenty  of  these  ancient  wells  can  be  counted  in  this 
region,  for  though  the  Attic  country  was  richly  dowered 
in  many  respects,  it  lacked  water,  and  it  was  not  with- 
out cause  that  Solon's  law  afterwards  prohibited  any 
one  from  borrowing  of  a  neighbor  more  than  a  certain 
quantity.  The  inhabitants  of  Kranaai  had  located 
their  wells  so  skilfully  that  even  now  —  after  the  lapse 
of  more  than  thirty  centuries  —  many  of  them  collect 
and  keep  the  rain. 

Below  the  cliff-city  itself  the  direction  of  the  streets 
may  still  be  discerned,  especially  in  the  deep  gully 
leading  down  to  the  Ilissus.  Here  there  are  distinct 
traces  of  wheels,  between  which  the  stone  was  rough- 
ened to  give  the  draught-animals  a  better  foothold,  and 
along  the  sides  of  the  road  ran  smooth-hewn  gut- 
ters to  carry  off  the  rain-water  pouring  down  from 
both  bluffs. 


II. 


Many  generations  had  already  succeeded  each 
other  in  the  cliff-city,  when  a  new  race  settled  on  the 
litde  plateau  between  the  Hill  of  the  Nymphs  and  the 
Gulf  of  Barathron.  Like  their  predecessors,  the  new- 
comers originated   in  Salamis,    but  they  called  them- 


4  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

selves  Cychreans,  from  a  family  descended  from  Cy- 
chreus,  one  of  the  demi-gods  of  the  island. 

While  on  the  Pnyx  alone  was  found  the  altar  of 
Zeus  Hypsistos,  the  supreme  Zeus,  around  which 
gathered  the  native  inhabitants  and  the  Cranai  to 
worship  a  common  god,  the  new-comers  erected  a 
sanctuary  to  the  sea-nymph  Melite,  Hercules'  love, 
who  was  related  to  the  ^acidae,  natives  of  Salamis. 

The  two  neighboring  colonies  thus  each  worshipped 
its  own  divinity  and  lived  in  peace  and  friendship,  nay 
at  last  some  of  the  Cychreans  took  wives  among  the 
daughters  of  the  Cranai. 

On  the  other  hand  the  new-comers  were  by  no 
means  on  good  terms  with  the  natives ;  for,  as  the  latter 
lived  scattered  over  the  country  and  did  not  seem  to 
be  very  numerous,  the  Cychreans  had  forced  those  they 
met  to  work  for  them.  They  had  already  employed 
them  to  smooth  the  cliff,  to  enable  them  to  build  there, 
and  many  of  the  Pelasgians  had  been  seriously  injured 
by  the  toilsome  labor.  Nay,  Tydeus,  a  tall,  handsome 
youth,  brother  of  one  of  their  chiefs,  had  sufifered  a 
terrible  death,  having  been  stoned  because  he  had  de- 
fended himself  and  refused  to  work  for  the  foreigners. 

The  Cychreans  endeavored  to  conceal  their  crime, 
fearing  that  when  the  matter  reached  the  Pelasgians' 
ears  they  would  make  war  upon  them.  There  was 
very  grave  cause  for  alarm;  for  the  Cychreans  had 
often  seen  from  their  cliff  Pelasgian  scouts  hiding  be- 
hind the  clumps  of  broom  on  the  plains,  evidently 
watching  for  an  opportunity  to  approach  their  enslaved 


ZEUS    HYPSISTOS.  5 

countrymen.  Young,  swift-footed  youths,  whom  it  was 
lost  time  to  pursue,  had  invariably  been  chosen  for 
this  service,  so  the  Cychreans  lay  in  ambush,  captured 
some  of  the  lads  and  questioned  them  narrowly  then, 
as  they  pretended  to  know  nothing,  forced  them  to  work 
like  the  others. 

The  morning  after  the  capture  of  these  spies  the 
Cychreans  noticed  that,  far  out  on  the  plain,  a  pile  of 
wood  had  been  lighted,  on  which  ferns  and  green 
plants  were  undoubtedly  thrown ;  for  it  sent  forth  a 
dense,  blackish-brown  smoke,  which  rose  to  a  consider- 
able height  and  could  be  seen  far  and  near.  Later  in 
the  day  another  bale-fire  was  discovered  farther  off, 
and  before  noon  ten  columns  of  smoke  were  counted 
from  the  cliff,  five  on  each  side,  the  last  of  which  were 
almost  lost  to  sight  in  the  distance.  There  was  some- 
thing strangely  menacing  in  these  murky  clouds  which, 
calling  to  and  answering  each  other,  rose  like  a  mute 
accusation  towards  the  sky. 

The  whole  Cychrean  nation,  young  and  old,  bond 
and  free,  gathered  outside  of  their  houses  and  stared 
at  the  unknown  sign.  They  suspected  that  it  was  a 
signal  for  the  Pelasgians  to  assemble,  but  when  they 
spoke  of  it  to  the  new  bondmen  the  latter  said  they 
had  never  seen  such  a  smoke,  but  that  the  Cychreans 
might  rely  upon  it  that  the  Pelasgians  would  not  march 
against  them  until  the  arrival  of  a  more  propitious 
day.  When  the  new  settlers  asked  when  that  would 
be,  they  answered : 

"  When  the  moon  is  large  in  the  sky." 


PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 


The  Cychreans  were  obliged  to  be  content  with 
this,  but  each  man  in  secret  carefully  examined  his 
weapons ;  no  one  believed  himself  safe. 


III. 


Lyrcus,  son  of  Xanthios,  was  one  of  the  principal 
Cychrean  chiefs.  He  was  feared  for  his  strength  and, 
in  those  days,  fear  was  synonymous  with  respect.  Lyr- 
cus had  devoted  himself  to  the  trade  of  war ;  he  under- 
stood how  to  forge  and  handle  weapons  and  taught 
the  youths  their  use.  In  personal  appearance  he  was 
a  tall  man  with  curling  black  locks,  a  reddish-brown 
beard,  and  a  keen,  but  by  no  means  ugly  face.  He 
usually  went  clad  in  a  tight-fitting  garment  made  of 
wolf-skins,  that  left  his  muscular  legs  and  arms  bare, 
and  wore  around  his  waist  a  leather  girdle'in  which  was 
thrust  a  bronze  knife  a  finger  long.  Many  tales  about 
him  were  in  circulation  among  the  Pelasgians;  for 
being  a  warlike  man  he  had  often  quarrelled  with  them 
and  on  predatory  excursions  with  some  of  his  comrades 
had  plundered  their  lands,  carrying  off  goats,  barley, 
figs,  honey,  and  whatever  else  pleased  him. 

Lyrcus  was  no  longer  very  young.  He  had  seen 
the  green  leaves  unfold  and  the  swallows  return  some 
forty  times.  Nevertheless,  he  had  always  scoffed  at 
love  and  considered  it  foolish  trifling.  When  he  was 
not  forging,  his  mind  was  absorbed  in  the  chase  and 
in  practising  the  use  of  arms. 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  7 

Yet,  though  Lyrcus  was  so  fierce  a  warrior,  Aphro- 
dite had  touched  his  heart  and  shown  that  she,  as  well 
as  Artemis,  deserved  the  name  of  Hekaerge,  the  far- 
shooting.  Once,  during  a  short  visit  to  the  neighbor- 
ing settlement,  Lyrcus  had  seen  Byssa,  the  fairest 
maiden  in  the  cliff-city,  drawing  water  from  the  well  in 
front  of  her  house,  and  had  instantly  been  seized  with 
an  ardent  passion  for  her.  Grasping  her  firmly  by  the 
arm,  he  gazed  intently  at  her  and,  when  the  blushing 
maiden  asked  why  he  held  her  so  roughly,  he  replied : 
"  Never  to  let  you  go !"  Such  was  the  fierce  Lyrcus' 
wooing. 

Byssa's  father,  Ariston,  the  priest  of  Zeus  Hypsis- 
tos,  was  an  aged,  gentle-natured  man  who  dared  not 
refuse  the  turbulent  warrior ;  yet  he  only  gave  his  con- 
sent on  condition  that  Byssa  should  keep  the  faith  of 
her  ancestors  and  not  offer  sacrifices  to  Melite  in  the 
Cychreans'  sanctuary.  Nevertheless,  both  he  and  his 
wife  had  tears  in  their  eyes  when  Lyrcus  bore  their 
only  child  away  and,  in  taking  leave  of  Byssa,  Ariston 
laid  his  hands  upon  her  head,  saying  : 

"  Be  a  good  wife  to  this  stranger.  But  do  not 
abandon  Zeus  Hypsistos,  that  Zeus  Hypsistos  may  not 
abandon  you." 

Since  that  day  a  whole  winter  had  passed,  and 
Lyrcus  seemed  to  love  Byssa  more  and  more  tenderly. 
There  was  only  one  subject  on  which  the  husband  and 
wife  held  different  opinions.  When  Lyrcus  saw  the 
other  women  flocking  to  Melite's  sanctuary  he  often 
wished   that    Byssa   should    accompany    them.       But 


8  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Byssa  was  inflexible.  "  Remember  your  promise  to 
my  father,"  she  said.  "  Whatever  may  befall  me,  I 
shall  never  forget  his  counsel :  '  Do  not  abandon  Zeus 
Hypsistos,  that  Zeus  Hypsistos  may  not  abandon 
you.'  "  And  so  the  matter  rested.  But  when  a  Phoe- 
nician ship  came  to  the  coast  —  for  in  those  days  the 
Phoenicians  were  the  only  people  who  dared  to  sail 
across  the  sea  —  Lyrcus  bought  the  finest  stuffs,  orna- 
ments, and  veils.  It  seemed  as  though  he  could  not 
adorn  Byssa  enough,  she  was  to  be  more  richly  attired 
than  any  of  the  Cychrean  women. 

Byssa  had  already  had  one  suitor  before  her  mar- 
riage, one  of  the  Pelasgian  chiefs,  a  man  thirty-eight 
years  old,  named  Periphas.  He  was  the  owner  of  a 
large  herd  of  goats,  often  offered  sacrifices  to  Zeus, 
smoothed  many  a  quarrel,  and  had  the  reputation  of 
being  a  good  and  upright  man.  Yet  there  was  little 
reason  that  he  should  be  renowned  for  piety  and  sanc- 
tity, for  he  could  scarcely  control  his  passions  and  had 
so  violent  a  temper  that  he  had  once  killed  a  sooth- 
sayer because  the  latter,  in  the  presence  of  the  people, 
had  predicted  that  he  would  die  a  shameful  death. 

While  offering  a  sacrifice  in  the  cliff-city  Periphas 
had  seen  pretty  Byssa  and  instantly  asked  her  of  her 
father,  promising  rich  bridal  gifts.  But  the  priest  Ariston 
had  answered  that  the  maiden  was  still  too  young. 

After  that  time  Periphas  was  often  met  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Cranai's  cliff  and,  when  sacrifices  were 
offered  on  the  ancient  altar,  always  appeared  at  the 
head   of  the    Pelasgians.     But  from  the  hour  Lyrcus 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  9 

had  carried  Byssa  home  none  of  the  Cranai  had  seen 
him,  though  it  was  said  that  on  one  of  Lyrcus'  pillag- 
ing excursions  he  had  shouted  : 

"  Beware,  when  the  day  of  retribution  comes,  I 
shall  not  content  myself  with  carrying  off  goats." 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  at  the  beginning  of  our 
tale.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  the  capture  of  the  spies 
was  to  give  occasion  for  war ;  one  of  the  youths  had 
succeeded  in  escaping  and  the  Cychreans  feared  that 
during  his  stay  among  them  he  might  have  obtained 
news  of  Tydeus'  death.  This  Tydeus,  who  had  been 
so  shamefully  stoned,  was  Periphas'  brother,  and  the 
chief  thus  had  double  cause  for  vengeance  —  his 
brother's  murder  and  his  shghted  love. 

But  spite  of  the  danger,  under  these  circumstances, 
of  leaving  the  Cychreans'  cliff  Lyrcus  had  too  restless 
a  nature  to  remain  quietly  at  home.  The  very  day 
that  the  columns  of  smoke  had  struck  such  terror  into 
the  people  he  had  set  out  early  in  the  morning,  accom- 
panied by  six  or  eight  men,  to  hunt  on  the  plains  or 
among  the  woods  that  clothed  Mt.  Parnes. 


IV. 


The  day  had  been  one  of  scorching  heat.  The  sun 
had  still  one-sixth  of  its  course  to  run,  and  the  air 
quivered  over  the  heated  cliffs. 

The  Cychreans  had  sought  refuge  outside  of  their 
small,   close    dwellings  to   get  a    breath   of  the  north 


lO  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

wind.  On  each  terrace,  men,  women,  and  children 
were  moving  about,  the  former  often  clad  merely  with 
the  skin  of  some  animal  thrown  around  the  hips,  the 
boys  perfectly  nude,  and  the  women  in  looped,  sleeve- 
less garments  or  sometimes  with  only  a  short  petticoat 
over  the  loins.  Most  of  these  robes  were  white,  and 
the  others  were  made  of  red,  yellow,  or  blue  stuffs ;  at 
that  time  people  valued  only  bright  pure  colors. 
Everywhere  merry  conversation  was  heard,  and  these 
hundreds  of  half-nude  figures  formed  an  indescribably 
animated  picture  against  the  dark  background  of  rock. 
Fear  of  the  Pelasgians  seemed  to  have  vanished  even 
before  the  fires  were  extinguished,  at  any  rate  it  did  not 
prevent  the  Cychreans  from  enjoying  the  present  mo- 
ment. 

On  one  of  the  lowest  terraces,  directly  opposite  to 
the  Areopagus,  stood  Lyrcus'  house  and  beside  it  the 
shed  where  he  forged  his  weapons.  At  the  door  he 
had  chained  a  large  yellow  dog  of  the  Molossian  breed, 
a  sort  of  bull-dog,  and  in  the  shelter  of  the  dwelling  an 
old  female  slave  was  busy  at  a  fire,  over  which  she  had 
hung  a  soot-encrusted  clay  vessel. 

A  few  paces  off,  towards  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  a 
canopy  of  rushes  was  stretched  between  long  poles. 
Beneath  its  shadow  stood  Byssa  busied  in  weaving 
loose  bits  of  woollen  stuff  into  a  single  piece.  The 
"  chain  "  was  placed  perpendicularly,  so  that  the  weav- 
ing was  done  standing ;  —  the  horizontal  loom,  which 
had  been  used  in  Egypt  for  centuries,  was  not  yet 
known  in  Hellas. 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  II 

As  Byssa  stood  near  the  verge  of  the  cUff,  with  the 
blue  sky  behind  her,  there  was  an  excellent  opportunity 
to  observe  her.  She  had  fastened  her  dark  hair  in  a 
knot  through  which  a  bronze  pin  was  thrust,  and  wore 
around  her  neck  a  row  of  blue  glass  beads.  The  rest 
of  her  dress  consisted  merely  of  a  red  petticoat,  reach- 
ing from  her  hips  to  her  knees.  But  her  low  brow,  her 
calm  black  eyes,  brilliant  complexion,  and  full  bust  dis- 
played the  voluptuous  beauty  pecuhar  to  the  South, 
and  which,  even  in  early  youth,  suggests  the  future 
mother.  In  short,  she  was  a  true  descendant  of  the 
grand  Hellenic  women,  who  from  the  dim  mists  of  dis- 
tant ages  appear  in  the  bewitching  lore  of  tradition, 
fair  enough  to  lure  the  gods  themselves  and  strong 
enough  to  bear  their  ardent  embrace  and  become  the 
mothers  of  demi-gods  and  heroes. 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  see  how  nimbly  she  used  her 
hands,  and  how  swiftly  the  weaving  progressed.  Each 
movement  of  the  young  wife's  vigorous,  rounded, 
slightly-sun-bumed  body,  though  lacking  in  grace,  pos- 
sessed a  peculiar  witchery  on  which  no  man's  eye 
would  have  rested  with  impunity. 

But  all  men  seemed  banished  from  her  presence. 
Every  one  knew  that  Lyrcus'  jealousy  was  easily  in- 
flamed, and  however  great  the  charm  Byssa  exercised, 
fear  of  the  fierce  warrior  was  more  potent  still. 

Byssa's  thoughts  did  not  seem  to  be  absorbed  in  her 
work.    Each  moment  she  glanced  up  from  her  weaving. 

The  Attic  plain  lay  outspread  before  her  in  the  sun- 
light.    Here  were  no  waving  grain-fields,  no  luxuriant 


12  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS 

vineyards ;  the  layer  of  soil  that  covered  the  rocks  was 
so  thin  that  the  scanty  crop  of  grass  could  only  feed  a 
few  goats.  Here  and  there  appeared  a  few  gnarled 
olive-trees,  whose  green-grey  foliage  glistened  with  a 
silvery  lustre,  and  wherever  there  was  a  patch  of  moist- 
ure the  earth  was  covered  with  a  speckled  carpet  of 
crocus,  hyacinth,  and  narcissus  blossoms. 

Finding  the  plain  always  empty  and  desolate,  the 
young  wife  at  last  let  her  hands  fall  and,  sighing  deeply, 
turned  towards  the  slave. 

"  How  long  he  stays  !"  she  exclaimed,  breaking  the 
silence. 

"  Lyrcus  is  strong  and  well  armed,"  replied  the  slave 
as  she  heaped  more  wood  on  the  fire.  "  The  Pelasgians 
fear  him  worse  than  death.     He  will  return  unhurt." 

Byssa  worked  on  silently ;  but  she  was  not  at  ease 
and  looked  up  from  her  weaving  still  more  frequently 
than  before. 

"  Why,"  cried  the  slave  suddenly,  "  there  they  are. 
Look  at  Bremon."  *  The  bull-dog  had  risen  on  its  hind 
legs  and  was  leaning  forward  so  that  the  chain  was 
stretched  tight ;  snuffing  the  wind  and  growling  impa- 
tiently it  wagged  its  tail  with  all  its  might. 


V. 


Byssa  stepped  farther  from  under  the  rush  canopy 
and  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hands.     On  the  right  the 

*  Growler. 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  15 

view  was  closed  by  Mt.  Lycabettus,  whose  twin  peaks 
looked  almost  like  one ;  on  the  left  the  gaze  rested  on 
dark  Parnes,  whose  strangely-formed  side-spur,  Harma, 
the  chariot,  was  distinctly  visible  from  the  Cychreans' 
cliff. 

For  a  long  time  Byssa  saw  nothing,  then  she  acci- 
dentally noticed,  much  nearer  than  she  had  expected, 
a  white  spot  among  some  trees. 

"  There  he  is !  There  he  is !"  she  cried  joyously, 
clapping  her  hands.  "  Tratta,  rejoice  !  I  see  a  light 
spot  out  there  —  his  white  horse." 

In  a  mountainous  country  like  Attica  even  the 
plains  are  uneven,  and  a  rise  of  the  ground  concealed 
her  view  of  the  approaching  steed. 

At  last  the  light  spot  appeared  again  —  this  time 
considerably  nearer.  Then  several  moments  passed, 
during  which  it  seemed  to  grow  larger. 

Byssa  strained  her  sight  to  the  utmost,  her  bosom 
heaving  with  anxious  suspense.  Suddenly  she  turned 
very  pale  and  throwing  herself  upon  Tratta's  breast, 
faltered  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  Something  terrible  has  happened.  The  horse  is 
alone  —  riderless." 

Almost  at  the  same  instant  she  released  herself  from 
the  slave's  embrace  and  went  to  the  very  verge  of  the 
cliff.  From  thence,  at  a  long  distance  behind  the 
horse,  she  descried  a  group  of  people  slowly  advancing. 
Several  men  who  looked  like  black  specks  seemed  to 
be  carrying  another,  and  several  more  followed. 

At    this    sight    Byssa    uttered    a   loud   shriek   and 


14  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

clenched  both  hands  in  her  hair.  But  Tratta  held  her 
back. 

"  Be  calm,  child,"  she  said  with  all  the  authority  of 
age.  "  First  learn  what  has  happened.  You  can  find 
plenty  of  time  to  mourn." 

But  Byssa  did  not  heed  her.  The  horse  had  come 
very  near  and  was  galloping  swiftly  to  its  stable  at  the 
foot  of  the  cliff. 

Ere  Tratta  could  prevent  it,  Byssa  hurried  to  the 
nearest  flight  of  stairs  and  darted  madly  down  the 
rough-hewn  steps,  where  the  slightest  stumble  would 
cause  mutilation  or  death.  The  slave,  not  without  an 
anxious  shake  of  the  head,  slowly  followed. 

The  horse  had  scarcely  allowed  itself  to  be  caught 
when  Byssa,  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and  a  peculiar  sol- 
emnity of  manner,  turned  to  the  old  servant  and 
pointed  to  the  animal's  heaving  flank. 

There  was  not  the  slightest  wound  to  be  seen ;  but 
a  streak  of  blood  a  finger  broad  had  flowed  down  the 
steed's  white  side  and  matted  its  hair  together. 

"  I  knew  it,  Tratta,  I  knew  it !"  cried  Byssa  despair- 
ingly. 

Then,  in  a  lower  tone,  she  added :  "  It  is  his 
blood." 

But  Tratta  answered  almost  angrily : 

"  His  or  some  other  person's ;  what  do  you  know 
about  it  ?     Help  me  to  get  the  horse  into  the  shed." 

Byssa,  without  knowing  what  she  was  doing,  obeyed 
and  then  looked  out  over  the  plain,  where  she  beheld  a 
sight  that  made  her  tremble  from  head  to  foot. 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  1 5 

Lyrcus  was  approaching  uninjured  at  the  head  of 
his  men. 

Byssa  uttered  a  shriek  of  joy  that  echoed  from  cHff 
to  cUff  as,  with  outstretched  arms  and  fluttering  hair, 
she  flew  to  meet  her  husband. 

Lyrcus  knit  his  brows. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  do  you  want  here  ?"  he  asked, 
surprised  to  find  her  at  the  base  of  the  chff". 

But  Byssa  heeded  neither  words  nor  look.  Throw- 
ing her  arms  around  his  neck  she  clung  to  him  and 
covered  his  wolf-skin  robe  with  tears  and  kisses. 

"  Lyrcus,  you  are  alive,"  she  repeated  frantically, 
while  all  the  fear  and  suspense  she  had  endured  found 
vent  in  soothing  sobs. 

"  Byssa,  speak !  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Lyrcus,  amazed 
at  the  excitement  in  which  he  found  his  wife. 

Byssa  took  him  by  the  hand,  led  him  to  the  stable, 
and  put  her  finger  on  the  red  streak  upon  the  horse's 
side. 

"  Simpleton  !"  said  Lyrcus  laughing.  "  That  is  no 
human  blood.  And  he  pointed  to  a  huge  dead  wild- 
boar,  which  two  men  could  scarcely  carry  on  a  lance 
flung  over  their  shoulders.  "After  the  hunt,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  we  wanted  to  put  the  great  heavy  beast  on 
the  horse;  but  it  was  frightened,  bolted,  and  ran 
home." 

Meantime  the  men  had  come  up.  In  spite  of  their 
fear  of  Lyrcus  they  could  not  refrain  from  looking  at 
pretty  Byssa,  who  was  now  doubly  beautiful  in  her  agi- 
tation and  delight.     Nay,  some  were  not  content  with 


l6  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

gazing  at  her  face,  but  cast  side-glances  at  her  bare 
feet  and  ankles,  which  were  sufficiently  well-formed  to 
attract  attention,  though  it  was  customary  for  women 
to  go  about  with  looped  garments. 

Lyrcus  noticed  these  stolen  glances,  and  frowning 
gripped  his  lance  more  firmly. 

"  Why  do  you  wear  that  red  rag  ?"  he  said  harshly, 
pointing  to  Byssa's  short  petticoat.  "  Haven't  I  given 
you  long  robes  ?" 

"  The  sun  is  so  hot  —  and  I  was  alone  at  my  weav- 
ing," stammered  the  poor  young  wife  with  a  burning 
blush. 

As  she  spoke,  confused  and  abashed,  she  put  her 
foot  on  the  lowest  step  of  the  rock-stairs  and  was  going 
to  hurry  up  the  cliff.  But  Lyrcus  seized  her  and  hurl- 
ing her  behind  him  so  that  he  concealed  her  with  his 
own  body,  shouted  sternly  to  his  companions  : 

"  Forward  !" 

Then  he  himself  went  up  after  them,  watching 
rigidly  to  see  that  no  one  looked  back,  but  left  Byssa 
and  the  slave  to  follow  as  best  they  could. 


VI. 


On  the  cliff  above  there  was  great  joy  among  the 
Cychreans  over  the  splendid  game.  But  when  the 
animal  was  flayed  and  its  flesh  cut  into  pieces  all,  not 
merely  the  hunters  themselves  but  their  friends  and 
relatives,  wanted  a  share  of  the  prize.      From  words 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  l^ 

they  came  to  blows,  and  Lyrcus  needed  all  his  au- 
thority to  restrain  the  infuriated  men. 

Meantime  the  sun  had  set  behind  the  mountains  of 
Corydallus.  The  olive-trees  on  the  plain  cast  no  shad- 
ows, the  whole  of  the  level  ground  was  veiled  in  dark- 
ness. Everything  was  silent  and  peaceful,  ever  and 
anon  a  low  twittering  rose  from  the  thickets. 

The  Cychreans  lingered  gossipping  together  after 
the  labor  of  the  day.  Some  of  them  asked  Lyrcus  and 
his  companions  whether  anything  had  happened  during 
the  hunt.  Lyrcus  replied  that  small  parties  of  Pelas- 
gians  had  been  seen  passing  in  the  distance,  but  he 
seemed  to  attach  no  importance  to  the  matter,  and 
many  of  the  Cychreans  were  preparing  to  go  to  rest  — 
when  a  child's  clear  voice  cried  in  amazement : 

"  Look,  look !     The  hills  are  moving !" 

Every  eye  followed  the  direction  of  the  child's 
finger. 

Far  away  over  some  low  hills,  whose  crests  stood 
forth  in  clear  relief  against  the  evening  sky,  a  strange 
rippling  motion  was  going  on.  It  looked  as  though 
some  liquid  body  was  flowing  down,  for  one  dark  rank 
succeeded  another,  as  wave  follows  wave. 

There  was  something  in  the  sight  which  turned  the 
blood  in  the  Cychreans'  veins  to  ice.  Nothing  was 
visible  on  the  plain  itself;  everything  there  was 
shrouded  in  the  dusk  of  evening. 

All  listened  in  breathless  suspense.  Then  a  rushing 
sound  echoed  through  the  increasing  darkness  —  a 
noise  like  a  great  body  of  men  in  motion,  the  hum  of 


15  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

many  voices,  distant  shouts,  songs,  and  the  clash  of 
Aveapons.  The  din  seemed  to  increase  and  draw 
nearer.  Then  flames  gUmmered,  as  though  instantly 
covered  by  dark  figures.  It  was  like  a  living  stream, 
that  grew  and  widened  till  it  surrounded  the  whole  cliff. 

Then  a  torch  was  lighted  and  a  small  party  of  ten 
or  twelve  men  approached  within  a  bow-shot.  Two  of 
them  put  long  horns  of  spiral  form  to  their  mouths,  and 
wild  echoing  notes  resounded  from  cliff  to  cHff.  A 
man  clad  in  a  white  linen  robe  stepped  forward,  raising 
aloft  a  laurel  staff.  Deep  silence  followed,  and  his 
shrill  voice  was  now  heard,  saying : 

"  Cychreans !  Ye  have  greatly  wronged  us.  Ye 
have  built  houses  on  land  that  was  not  yours ;  ye  have 
made  the  men  of  our  nation  serve  you  and,  when  the 
youth  Tydeus  refused,  ye  basely  murdered  him. 

"  For  the  surrender  of  the  land  and  in  token  of  sub- 
jection ye  must  pay  us,  the  original  inhabitants  of  the 
country,  an  annual  tribute  of  seven  hundred  spears  and 
as  many  swords  and  shields." 

Here  a  loud  clamor  arose  among  the  Cychreans. 
They  understood  that  it  was  the  Pelasgians'  intention 
to  disarm  them,  and  their  wrath  found  vent  in  fierce 
invectives. 

"  Listen  to  the  dogs !"  they  shouted.  "  Ere  the 
battle  has  begun,  they  talk  like  conquerors.  Do  the 
bragging  fools  suppose  they  can  blow  the  cliff  over 
with  their  snail  horns  ?" 

But  the  herald  did  not  allow  himself  to  be  inter- 
rupted. 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  19 

"  Cychreans !"  he  continued,  "  the  Pelasgians  whom 
ye  have  enslaved  must  be  set  free  and,  in  compensa- 
tion for  your  crime  of  murder,  we  demand  that  you  de- 
liver up  to  us  Lyrcus,  who  has  provoked  war  and  pil- 
laged peaceful  dwellers  in  the  land.  These  demands 
we  will  enforce  by  arms.  We  no  longer  come  with  en- 
treaties, but  with  commands." 

Again  a  terrible  din  arose,  but  Lyrcus  ordered  si- 
lence and  springing  upon  a  rock,  from  which  he  could 
be  seen  and  heard  far  and  near,  shouted  : 

"  Pelasgians !  The  land  where  we  have  built  was 
desolate  and  uninhabited ;  it  belonged  to  us  as  much 
as  to  you.  When  you  demand  slaves  and  wish  me  to 
be  delivered  over  to  you,  the  answer  is  :  Come  and  take 
MS.  But  mark  this :  it  is  you,  not  we,  who  begin  the 
war;  we  only  defend  ourselves  againt  assault.  This 
answer  is  deserved,  and  approved  by  our  people." 

Loud  exulting  shouts  from  the  Cychreans  hailed 
his  words. 

Lyrcus  gazed  confidently  around  him ;  for,  reckless 
as  he  was  of  his  own  safety,  he  was  cautious  where  the 
people's  welfare  was  concerned.  At  the  first  sign  of 
war  he  had  put  the  clitf  in  a  posture  of  defence. 

At  all  the  wider  approaches  he  had  piled  heaps  of 
huge  stones  to  be  rolled  down  on  the  foe,  and  where 
men  could  climb  up  singly  he  had  stationed  sentinels. 
The  rear  of  the  height  was  inaccessible ;  here  stretched 
for  more  than  four  hundred  ells  the  Gulf  of  Barathron, 
bordered  along  its  almost  perpendicular  sides  by  cliffs 
from  ninety  to  a  hundred  yards  high.     This  dark,  wild 


20  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

chasm  was  afterwards  used  for  a  place  of  execution; 
and  it  was  here  that  malefactors  whom  the  law  sen- 
tenced "  to  be  hurled  into  the  abyss  "  ended  their  days. 
Towards  the  north,  the  windward  side,  the  cliff  had  no 
covering  of  earth  and  here  at  its  foot,  half  concealed 
among  some  huge  boulders,  was  the  entrance  to  a  cave 
which  led  obliquely  upward  to  some  subterranean 
tombs,  whence  a  steep  passage  extended  to  one  of 
the  lower  terraces.  In  this  passage  Lyrcus  had  had 
steps  hewn  in  order  to  secure  a  secret  descent  to  the 
plain,  and  for  farther  concealment  he  had  ordered 
bushes  to  be  planted  outside  of  the  cave. 

Though  the  Cychreans  on  the  whole  were  in  good 
spirits,  they  found  themselves  in  a  serious  mood  as  the 
decisive  hour  approached.  Lyrcus,  at  his  first  leisure 
moment,  had  assured  Byssa  that  the  Pelasgians  would 
be  received  in  such  a  way  that  not  a  single  man  could 
set  foot  on  the  open  space  before  the  houses.  The 
young  wife  silently  embraced  him ;  her  eyes  were  full 
of  tears  and  she  could  not  speak.  She  trusted  her  hus- 
band impHcitly,  but  nevertheless  was  deeply  moved. 

"  Before  the  sun  goes  down,"  she  thought,  "  many 
an  eye  will  be  closed.  And  what  will  be  Lyrcus* 
fate  ?" 


VII. 


The    greater  portion  of  the  night    passed  quietly. 
They  saw  the  Pelasgians    light    fires    in  a  semi-circle 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  2  1 

around  the  clifif  and  noticed  the  smell  of  roasted  meat. 
Songs  and  laughter  were  heard,  and  with  the  fires  a 
thicket  of  spears  seemed  to  have  grown  out  of  the 
earth. 

On  the  cliff  itself  deep  silence  reigned.  Yet  a 
strange  crackhng  sound  echoed  upon  the  night,  and 
the  wind  brought  a  light  mist  and  a  smell  of  burning. 
Soon  after  a  red  cloud  rose  into  the  air  and  from  lip  to 
lip  ran  the  shout : 

"  The  store-house  is  on  fire  !" 

Was  it  some  foolhardy  Pelasgian  or  one  of  the  new- 
made  bondmen  who  had  set  it  in  flames  ?  In  any  case 
the  task  had  been  no  easy  one.  The  store-house,  like 
the  dwellings,  had  been  hewn  out  of  the  cliff  and  con- 
tained nothing  combustible  except  seeds  and  the  tim- 
bers on  which  the  roof  rested.  Nevertheless,  the 
flames  spread  swiftly,  when  the  fire  first  reached  the 
air,  and  a  part  of  the  roof  fell.  Vast  lurid  clouds  of 
smoke  whirled  aloft  and,  as  usual  when  seeds  are  burn- 
ing, numberless  showers  of  sparks  rose  with  the  smoke 
and  fell  back  again  to  the  earth  in  a  fine  rain.  Sud- 
denly, just  as  the  fallen  timbers  burst  into  a  blaze,  a 
lofty  column  of  fire  shot  up  from  the  roof.  The  Hill 
of  the  Nymphs,  the  Areopagus,  and  the  height  known 
in  later  times  as  the  Acropolis  were  illumined  by  a 
crimson  glow,  and  the  whole  Pelasgian  army  broke 
into  exulting  shouts. 

Some  of  the  boldest  came  nearer,  and  an  old  bow- 
legged  simpleton,  ridiculously  equipped  with  a  gigantic 
helmet  and  an  enormous  club,  strode  toward  the  cliff, 


22  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

where  he  made  a  movement  as  though  he  was  setting 
his  foot  on  the  neck  of  a  conquered  foe. 

At  this  defiance  a  young  Cychrean  seized  his  bow 
and  arrow. 

"  Rhai — bo — ske — les  !  Bow-legs  !"  he  shouted,  his 
voice  echoing  far  over  the  plain,  "  where  did  you  get 
your  shield  ?" 

The  bow-string  twanged  —  and  the  old  man  just  as 
he  took  flight  fell  backward  to  the  ground. 

The  Cychreans  clapped  their  hands  and  uttered 
loud  shouts  of  joy. 

At  the  sight  of  the  old  man's  fall  —  he  was  probably 
a  chief —  a  bloodthirsty  yell  ran  through  the  ranks  of 
the  Pelasgians.  A  long  word,  rendered  unintelligible 
by  the  distance,  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth  till  it  sud- 
denly rang  out  clearly  and  distinctly  like  a  command. 

"  Sphendonetai  !     Slingers !" 

Forth  from  the  dark  throng  gathered  around  the 
fires  marched  a  body  of  men  who  had  nothing  but  a 
sheep-skin  around  their  hips.  They  formed  in  two 
rows  facing  the  cliff,  a  score  of  paces  intervening  be- 
tween the  ranks,  and  the  same  distance  between  man 
and  man. 

Among  a  pastoral  race  like  the  Pelasgians  the  sling 
was  an  indispensable  implement.  It  served  to  keep  the 
herds  together;  for  when  a  goat  or  any  of  the  cattle 
had  been  hit  once  or  twice  by  a  stone  from  a  sling  the 
shepherd-dog  noticed  it  and  kept  a  strict  watch  upon 
the  animal.     By  skill  in  the  use  of  the  sling  the  herds- 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  23 

man  thus  saved  himself  the  trouble  of  running  after  the 
beasts  which  strayed  away  from  the  flocks,  and  in  a 
mountainous  region  like  Attica,  where  one  can  scarcely 
walk  a  few  hundred  paces  without  going  up  or  down, 
it  is  well  to  spare  the  legs. 

The  sling  itself  was  very  simple.  It  consisted 
merely  of  two  woollen  cords  half  an  ell  long  and  about 
as  thick  as  the  finger,  fastened  at  each  comer  of  a 
piece  of  leather  shaped  like  a  lance-head,  with  a  hole 
in  the  middle  to  hold  the  stone  firmly.  The  art  of 
using  the  implement  consisted  in  letting  one  cord  drop 
at  the  moment  the  stone  was  in  the  right  curve  to 
reach  the  mark. 

The  men  with  the  sheep-skins  round  their  loins  col- 
lected stones  from  the  ground  and  hurled  them  towards 
the  cliff,  until  they  ascertained  the  distance  —  then  they 
took  them  from  the  pouches  they  carried  suspended  by 
a  leather  thong  over  their  shoulders.  These  stones,  of 
which  each  man  carried  twelve  or  fourteen,  weighed 
about  eight  pounds.  Afterwards  bullets  the  size  of  a 
hen's  egg  were  used  and  these  bullets,  marked  with  the 
Hellenic  stamp,  are  still  found  on  the  plain  of  Mara- 
thon. 

Suddenly  a  deafening  clatter  resounded  upon  the 
Cychreans'  cliff  from  the  stones  which  beat  against  the 
houses  and  fell  back  on  the  hard  ground.  Soon  shrieks 
of  pain  blended  with  the  din  and  Lyrcus  perceived 
with  alarm  that  his  people  were  being  badly  wounded 
as,  under  the  hail  of  stones  from  above,  heads  were 
bruised  or  shoulder-joints  injured. 


24  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

The  youth  who  had  felled  the  old  chieftain  again 
seized  his  bow,  but  Lyrcus  dashed  it  from  his  hands. 

"  Luckless  wight !"  he  said,  "  our  bows  do  not  reach 
half  so  far  as  their  slings.  Do  you  want  to  show  them 
it  is  so  ?" 

After  hurriedly  stationing  sentinels  where  there  was 
any  shelter,  he  ordered  his  men  to  retreat  into  the 
houses.  But  even  there  they  were  not  safe ;  for  when 
one  or  more  stones  struck  a  roof  whose  timbers  were 
not  new,  it  fell  wholly  or  in  part,  wounding  men, 
women,  and  children.  The  cliff  soon  echoed  with 
wails  and  shrieks  of  pain,  and  the  deafening  rattle  of 
the  shower  of  stones  was  gradually  weakening  the  Cy- 
chreans'  courage,  the  more  so  because  they  were  un- 
able to  defend  themselves. 

Then  Lyrcus,  who  had  mounted  guard  himself,  saw 
a  small  body  of  men  approaching  from  the  Pelasgian 
camp,  evidently  to  reconnoitre.  They  moved  along 
the  cliff  about  a  bow-shot  off  for  some  time,  quietly  al- 
lowing the  stones  from  the  slings  to  fly  over  them. 
Suddenly  one  who  marched  at  the  head  of  the  band 
raised  a  large  conch  horn  to  his  lips,  sounding  three 
long,  shrill  notes,  and  a  great  bustle  arose  among  the 
Pelasgians. 

Five  or  six  hundred  men  gathered  in  front  of  the 
camp  and  hastily  formed  in  ranks.  Leaders  were 
heard  firing  their  zeal  and  issuing  orders.  Then  they 
ran  at  full  speed  towards  the  cliff,  where  the  spies, 
holding  their  shields  over  their  heads,  were  already  try- 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  25 

ing  to  show  the  advancing  soldiers  the  places  most 
easy  to  ascend. 

At  the  moment  the  dark  figures  in  their  goat-skin 
garments  and  hoods  set  foot  on  the  cliff,  the  hail  of 
stones  ceased.  The  Cychreans  now  came  out  of 
their  houses  and  went  to  the  heaps  of  stones  piled  on 
the  steps.  Though  the  fire  of  the  store-house  was  be- 
ginning to  die  away,  the  lurid  flames  still  afforded  suf- 
ficient light  to  show  the  Pelasgians  their  way.  When 
Lyrcus  saw  that  they  had  scaled  part  of  the  height,  he 
gave  orders  to  hurl  the  stones  down.  The  Cychreans 
set  to  work  eagerly;  rock  after  rock  rolled  down, 
bounding  from  one  boulder  to  another.  Again  loud 
shrieks  of  pain  arose,  but  this  time  from  the  Pelasgians, 
many  of  whom  missed  their  footing,  plunged  down- 
ward, and  were  mangled  by  the  fall. 

Nevertheless,  many  of  them,  partly  by  escaping  the 
stones  and  partly  by  protecting  themselves  with  their 
shields,  succeeded  in  approaching  the  open  terrace  of 
the  crag  unhurt.  Here  the  Cychreans  rushed  upon 
them,  but  they  defended  themselves  with  the  obstinacy 
of  men  who  have  a  steep  cliff  behind  them.  For  a  long 
time  the  battle  remained  undecided  —  then  the  Cy- 
chrean  women  hastened  to  the  aid  of  the  men.  They 
flung  ashes  and  sand  into  the  Pelasgians'  eyes,  and 
some  finally  used  heavy  hand-mills  for  weapons.  Nay, 
lads  of  twelve  and  fourteen  followed  their  mothers'  ex- 
ample and  armed  themselves  with  everything  on  which 
they  could  lay  hands. 

When  Lyrcus  perceived  that  the  battle  was  raging 


26  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

violently  he  turned  towards  the  burning  store-house 
and,  seeing  that  the  fire  was  nearly  out,  he  laughed 
and  exclaimed  :  "  I'll  risk  it."  Then,  collecting  the 
men  who  could  be  spared,  he  led  them  by  torchlight 
through  the  covered  passage  to  the  plain.  Here,  under 
cover  of  the  darkness,  he  stole  with  his  soldiers  behind 
the  Pelasgians'  camp  and,  while  the  latter  were  gazing 
intently  towards  the  cliff  to  see  whether  the  attack  was 
successful,  the  Cychreans  uttered  a  loud  war  cry  and 
unexpectedly  assailed  them  in  the  rear. 

Lyrcus,  as  usual,  wore  his  wolf-skin  robe  and  a 
hood  of  the  same  fur  on  which,  by  way  of  ornament,  he 
had  left  the  animal's  ears  —  an  appendage  that  gave 
his  head-gear  a  peculiarly  fierce  appearance.  By  the 
uncertain  light  of  the  fires  many  of  the  Pelasgians 
recognized  him  by  the  hood  with  the  wolf's  ears,  and 
soon  the  cry  was  heard  : 

"  Lyrcus  is  upon  us !  Fly  from  Lyrcus !"  Then 
began  a  flight  so  headlong  that  many  of  the  soldiers 
thus  taken  by  surprise  did  not  even  give  themselves 
time  to  pull  their  spears  out  of  the  ground. 

Just  at  that  moment  a  chief  in  a  copper  helmet, 
breast-plate,  greaves,  and  shield,  sprang  from  behind  a 
rock,  threw  himself  like  a  madman  before  the  fugitives 
and  wounded  several  with  his  spear. 

"Periphas!"  shouted  Lyrcus,  hurling  his  lance  at 
him.  But  the  Pelasgian  parried  it  with  his  shield,  and 
at  the  same  instant  its  edge  was  cleft  by  the  weapon  he 
stooped  behind  the  rattling  pieces.  The  ash-spear 
whizzed  over  his  head,  ruffling  his  hair. 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  IJ 

"  So  near  death !"  he  thought,  and  an  icy  chill  ran 
through  bone  and  marrow. 

Lyrcus  drew  his  sword ;  but  a  throng  of  fugitives 
pressed  between  him  and  Periphas  —  he  saw  the  latter's 
glittering  helmet  whirled  around  and  swept  away  by 
the  stream  of  men. 

At  the  name  of  Lyrcus  the  alarm  spread  from 
watch-fire  to  watch-fire.  Just  at  that  moment  a  loud 
shriek  of  terror  arose  from  those  who  had  climbed  the 
Cychreans'  cliff,  for  when  the  glow  of  the  flames  from 
the  burning  store-house  had  died  away  they  were 
forced  in  the  darkness  over  the  verge  of  the  bluff. 
This  shriek  hastened  the  Pelasgians'  flight;  they  in- 
stantly perceived  that  they  could  expect  no  help  from 
their  comrades. 

Lyrcus,  fearing  that  the  enemy  might  discover  how 
small  his  band  was,  soon  checked  the  pursuit,  and 
when  his  people  on  the  way  home  vied  with  each  other 
in  lauding  him  as  conqueror,  he  replied : 

"It  was  their  mistake  that  they  used  fire  as  a  torch 
to  scale  the  cliff;  for  when  the  flames  died  down  they 
were  suddenly  left  in  thick  darkness  with  the  foe  in 
front  and  a  steep  bluff  behind.  ...  I,  for  my  part,  put 
my  trust  in  the  darkness,  under  whose  cover  I  surprised 
the  Pelasgians,  and  the  darkness  did  not  deceive  me  as 
their  flames  deluded  them." 


28  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 


VIII. 

During  the  first  few  days  after  the  unsuccessful  at- 
tack Periphas,  from  fear  of  the  Cychreans,  concealed 
himself  in  a  cave  in  Mt.  Hymettus.  It  was  known 
only  by  the  herdsman  who  brought  him  his  provisions, 
and  the  furniture  consisted  of  some  goat-skin  coverlids, 
a  hand-mill,  a  few  clay  vessels,  and  a  stone  hearth. 

One  sultry  afternoon  when  the  sun  shone  into  the 
cavern  Periphas  was  lying  almost  naked  behind  a  block 
of  stone  at  the  entrance.  Before  him  stood  a  youth 
with  curling  black  hair  and  a  deer-skin  thrown  around 
his  loins.  Nomion  was  the  son  of  a  neighboring  chief- 
tain, and  had  been  Tydeus'  friend  from  boyhood. 

Both  looked  grave,  nay  troubled ;  they  were  talking 
about  the  Cychreans  and  Tydeus'  murder. 

"  I  believe  you  are  mistaken,"  said  Nomion.  "  Lyr- 
cus  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter.  Tydeus  fell  in 
a  broil ;  his  refusal  to  serve  the  Cychreans  irritated 
them  and  made  them  furious.  Each  threw  a  stone  and 
wounded  him  until  the  hapless  youth  drew  his  last 
breath.  It  was  like  a  swarm  of  bees  attacking  a  mule ; 
no  single  bee  can  be  said  to  kill  it,  each  one  merely 
gives  its  little  sting  —  but  the  animal  dies  of  them." 

Periphas  shook  his  head. 

"  I  know  better,"  he  answered.  "  Lyrcus  hates  me 
and  all  my  race.     Did  I  not  woo  Byssa  ?" 

"  No,  no,"  persisted  Nomion,  who  as  the  son  of  a 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  2^ 

chief  used  greater  freedom  of  speech  in  addressing 
Periphas  than  most  others  would  have  ventured  to  do. 
If  Lyrcus  was  the  murderer,  how  could  he  enter  the 
places  of  assembly  before  the  houses  and  move  about 
among  the  other  Cychreans  ?  Who  will  associate  with 
an  assassin  ?  Are  not  trials  in  all  cases  of  murder,  ac- 
cording to  ancient  custom,  held  under  the  open  sky 
that  neither  accusers  nor  judges  may  be  beneath  the 
same  roof  with  the  slayer?" 

"  I  know,"  muttered  Periphas  with  a  sullen  glance, 
'*  that  a  murderer  is  unclean." 

"  Not  merely  unclean  —  but  under  a  double  ban. 
The  victim's  and  the  wrath  of  the  gods.  Shall  the 
murdered  soul  wander  away  from  light  and  life  without 
demanding  a  bloody  vengeance  ?  And  the  gods  — 
to  whom  murder  is  an  abomination  —  shall  they  forbear 
to  practise  righteous  retribution  ?" 

Periphas,  averting  his  face,  remained  silent. 

"  Forgive  me !"  exclaimed  Nomion,  "  I  forgot  that 
you  yourself  .  .  ." 

"The  soothsayer,"  —  said  Periphas,  lowering  his 
voice,  "  yes,  he  fell  before  my  spear.  But  he  was  rightly 
served.  Did  not  the  fool  proclaim  aloud,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  all,  what  he  ought  to  have  confided  to  me 
alone  ?" 

"  Yet  it  was  a  murder." 

"  No,  my  friend,  believe  me,  it  was  something  very 
different  from  their  crime.  Don't  you  know,  Nomion, 
that  no  Pelasgian  owns  larger  herds  than  I  —  well !  If 
I  have  offended  the  gods,  no  one  has  brought  them 


30  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

more  numerous  and  costly  offerings.  Besides,  I  went 
directly  to  Kranaai  and  caused  Ariston  to  purify  me, 
according  to  priestly  fashion,  from  the  stain  of  blood. 
As  for  the  dead  man's  family  —  I  appeased  them  long 
ago  with  costly  gifts." 

"  But  —  the  disposition  ?"  asked  Nomion,  looking 
Periphas  straight  in  the  eye. 

"  The  disposition !"  replied  Periphas,  shunning  No- 
mion's  glance.  "Youth,  you  utter  strange  words. 
When  neither  gods  nor  men  complain,  who  asks  about 
the  disposition  ?" 

And  Periphas  burst  into  a  strange,  forced  laugh, 
that  echoed  almost  uncannily  through  the  cave. 

"  Be  that  as  it  may,"  said  Nomion.  "  If  the 
Cychreans  suffer  murderers  to  live  among  them  unpun- 
ished, will  not  they,  too,  will  not  the  whole  nation  be 
unclean  and  exposed  to  the  wrath  of  the  gods  ?" 

"  It  seems  so." 

"  Yet  the  Cychreans  remain  victors,  while  we,  Ty- 
deus'  avengers,  are  scattered  like  chaff  before  the  wind. 
What  is  the  cause  ?" 

"  Perhaps  their  gods  are  stronger  than  ours." 

"  The  sea-nymph  Melite  stronger  than  Zeus  Hyp- 
sistos !     You  cannot  believe  that." 

"  Perhaps  we  ought  to  have  waited  for  a  lucky 
day." 

"No,"  retorted  Nomion,  "I  believe  that  Lyrcus 
conquered  because  he  has  done  no  evil.  He  is  a  war- 
like fellow  and  foremost  in  the  fray,  so  he  cannot  con- 
tent himself  with  carrying  away  goats,  barley,  figs,  and 


ZEUS    HYPSISTOS.  31 

honey.  But  he  has  never  killed  a  man  except  in  fair 
fight.  Had  he  been  present,  Tydeus  would  never  have 
been  stoned." 

"  You  have  a  remarkably  good  opinion  of  Lyrcus," 
said  Periphas.  "  But  why  talk  about  this  Cychrean 
continually  ?  There  are  other  chiefs  in  the  country . . . 
Well !  We'll  see  whether  the  gods  will  protect  him  an- 
other time." 

"  Periphas  !     What  are  you  planning  ?" 

"  Do  you  know  the  pretty  bird  whose  name  is 
Kitta  ?  It  loves  its  mate  so  dearly  that  it  cannot  live 
without  it.  Let  the  hen  be  caught  in  the  nest  by  some 
simple  snare,  and  the  cock  will  fly  after  her  of  its  own 
accord  and  allow  itself  to  be  captured." 

*'  In  the  name  of  the  gods !  Do  I  understand  you  ? 
Do  you  mean  to  steal  Byssa  ?" 

"  Doesn't  she  seem  to  you  worth  having  ?  Well, 
by  Zeus,"  continued  Periphas,  the  blood  mounting  into 
his  cheeks,  "  I  would  rather  carry  her  away  than  goats, 
barley,  figs,  and  honey." 

"  Beware,  Periphas !  Don't  drive  Lyrcus  to  frenzy. 
He  will  then  be  capable  of  anything." 

"  Not  when  he  is  in  7ny  power." 


IX. 


At  the  foot  of  the  heights  of  Agrae,  a  part  of  Mt. 
Hymettus,  the  channel  of  the  Ilissus  widens.  The  river 
here   divides   into   two   arms,  which   enclose   a   level 


32  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

island.  At  the  place  where  the  branches  meet  the 
banks  form  a  bluff  with  two  pits;  here,  trickling  be- 
tween the  layers  of  stone,  excellent  drinking  water  col- 
lects in  such  abundance  as  to  form  a  pond.  It  is  the 
fountain  of  Callirhoe  (beautiful  spring)  and  is  used  at 
the  present  day  as  a  pool  for  washing. 

At  the  time  of  this  story  Callirhoe  was  the  place 
from  which  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  Cychreans, 
as  well  as  the  Cranai,  brought  water  when  the  little 
wells  on  the  cliffs  were  exhausted.  The  fountain  of 
Clepsydra  was  considerably  nearer;  but  as  the  name 
(water  that  steals  forth)  implies,  it  was  too  scanty  to 
supply  two  colonies.  Therefore  the  people  were  obliged 
to  fetch  water  from  the  banks  of  the  Ilissus,  more  than 
two  thousand  feet  off,  in  a  desolate  tract  of  country 
called  Agrae.  The  journey  was  not  wholly  free  from 
peril,  for  the  Pelasgians  roving  over  Mt.  Hymettus 
considered  the  pool  their  own  and  looked  askance  at 
all  others  who  sought  to  use  it.  Women  had  often 
been  molested  there  and  several  times  even  abducted. 
Therefore  it  had  become  the  custom  for  the  women 
and  girls  to  go  to  the  fountain  in  parties,  and  to  be  ac- 
companied by  armed  men.  But  several  years  had  now 
elapsed  since  any  one  had  been  molested,  and  the 
guard  of  men  was  beginning  to  be  rather  careless.  In- 
stead of  weapons,  many  of  the  younger  ones  took  the 
implements  of  the  chase  and  amused  themselves  by 
snaring  hares,  great  numbers  of  which  were  found  in 
this  region. 

The  trip  to  the  fountain  on  the  whole  was  a  pleas- 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  23 

ure  excursion.  With  the  faculty  for  making  life  easy 
and  pleasant  possessed  by  all  southern  nations,  the 
time  was  well-chosen.  In  the  first  place  the  party 
started  in  the  afternoon ;  the  sun  was  then  behind  them 
and  when  they  returned  it  was  hidden  below  Mt. 
Corydallus.  One  of  the  older  men  took  a  syrinx  or  a 
flute ;  the  young  fellows  jested  with  the  pretty  maids 
and  matrons,  they  relieved  each  other  in  carrying  the 
water-jars,  laughter  and  song  resounded,  sometimes 
they  even  danced  in  long  lines  on  the  open  ground  be- 
side the  pool. 

A  few  days  after  the  conversation  between  Periphas 
and  Nomion  in  the  cave  on  Mt.  Hymettus  one  of  these 
expeditions  was  made.  After  the  recent  victory  there 
was  two-fold  mirth,  and  the  party  could  be  heard  for  a 
long  distance  amid  the  rural  stillness  of  the  country 
bordering  the  Ilissus.  At  the  first  sound  of  the  notes 
of  the  flute  and  the  merry  voices  something  stirred  in 
the  bushes  on  the  crag  just  below  the  fountain  of  Cal- 
lirhoe.  Two  sunburnt  hands  pushed  the  branches 
aside  and  a  brown  visage  appeared,  of  which,  however, 
little  could  be  seen,  as  a  goat-skin  hood  was  drawn  low 
over  the  brow.  Periphas  —  for  it  was  he  —  saw  from 
his  hiding-place  the  women  approaching  between  a 
double  row  of  men. 

"  There  they  are !"  he  said  to  Nomion,  who  lay 
concealed  behind  him.  "  What  do  you  say  to  the 
jilot  ?  First  the  wife,  then  the  husband.  To-morrow 
morning,  perhaps  to-night,  Lyrcus  will  be  in  our  power. 
Will  you  help  me  ?" 

3 


34  PICTURKS    OF    HELLAS. 

"  No,  by  Zeus,  no  !"  replied  Nomion  fimily.  "  On 
the  contrary,  I  will  warn  you  again.  Consider,  Peri- 
phas !  Don't  throw  the  last  anchor  upon  treacherous 
ground.  It  ill-beseems  the  younger  man  to  advise  the 
older  —  may  Zeus  open  your  eyes  while  there  is  yet 
time." 

"  Begone  to  the  vultures,  foolish  boy !"  cried  Peri- 
phas  angrily.  "  You  use  sword  and  lance  like  a  man. 
But  where  is  your  courage  ?" 

"  By  the  gods,  it  isn't  courage  I  lack,"  replied  No- 
mion, as  he  let  himself  slide  down  the  precipice  and 
vanished  among  the  hills. 

Meantime  the  party  had  come  nearer.  Suddenly 
there  was  a  movement  in  the  last  rank  and  the  joyous 
shout :  "  A  hare !  A  hare  !"  Without  losing  a  moment 
the  youths  divided  into  two  bands  who,  with  long 
poles  in  their  hands,  tried  to  drive  the  animal  towards 
some  snares  set  at  the  end  of  the  valley.  The  older 
ones  convinced  themselves  that  no  Pelasgians  were  in 
sight,  and  then  slowly  followed  to  witness  the  result  of 
the  chase. 

Had  Lyrcus  been  present,  this  would  not  have 
happened;  but  he  had  remained  at  home  to  forge 
some  weapons. 


X. 


The  women,  who  were  left  to  themselves  by  the 
men's  zeal  for  the  chase,  went  to  the  pool  and  set  down 


ZEUS    HYPSISTOS. 


35 


their  water-jars.  The  barren,  dreary  region,  where 
usually  nothing  was  seen  except  a  few  goats  and  shep- 
herds, now  swarmed  with  young  Cychrean  women  in 
white  and  variegated  robes.  Most  of  them  stood  talk- 
ing together  by  the  pond  —  some,  weary  and  breath- 
less, stretched  themselves  on  the  mossy  bank  of  the 
river;  others  wiped  the  dust  from  their  limbs  with  dry 
leaves;  many  gathered  flowers  in  the  shade,  others 
waded  out  into  the  stream  to  cool  their  feet  in  the  shal- 
low, but  clear  and  inviting  water. 

Periphas,  from  his  hiding-place,  saw  them  all,  yet 
among  the  whole  party  his  eye  sought  only  one. 

Byssa  was  sitting  near  the  pool  among  some  young 
matrons  of  her  own  age.  She  had  removed  her  san- 
dals, and  while  he  was  watching  her,  rested  her  foot  on 
her  knee  to  examine  a  scratch  she  had  received  from 
the  stones  on  the  way.  A  young  woman,  whose  ap- 
pearance indicated  that  she  was  about  to  become  a 
mother,  approached  with  her  arms  full  of  flowers  and, 
smiling,  flung  them  all  into  Byssa's  lap,  whispering 
something  in  her  ear  as  if  it  were  to  be  kept  a  secret 
from  the  very  stones.  Byssa  flushed  crimson  and 
snatched  up  one  of  the  sandals  lying  by  her  side  to 
make  a  feint  of  punishing  her  friend ;  but,  as  she  raised 
her  arm,  the  sandal  slipped  from  her  hand  and  flew  far 
out  in  the  water. 

There  was  a  general  outburst  of  screams  and  laugh- 
ter. 

Byssa  started  up,  shaking  all  the  flowers  from  her 
lap  on  the  ground,  hastily  gathered  up  the  folds  of  her 


T,6  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

garments,  and  waded  out  into  the  stream.  But  the 
current  had  already  swept  the  sandal  into  somewhat 
deeper  water,  so  that,  to  avoid  being  wet,  she  was 
obliged  to  lift  her  clothes  above  her  knees.  She  soon 
perceived  that  the  task  was  not  so  easy.  Every  time 
she  stretched  out  her  hand  she  was  baffled.  The  little 
whirlpools  in  the  stream  played  sportively  with  their 
prize ;  each  moment  they  bore  the  sandal  under  their, 
light  foam,  and  when  it  again  appeared  it  was  in  an 
entirely  different  place  from  where  its  owner  ex- 
pected. 

A  cold  wind  was  blowing  and  Byssa,  like  many  of 
her  companions,  wore  a  goat-skin  bodice.  As  she  had 
become  heated  by  the  long  walk  she  allowed  it  to  hang 
loosely  about  her,  and  every  time  the  pretty  Cychrean 
bent  forward  to  grasp  the  sandal,  Periphas'  gaze  could 
take  a  dangerous  liberty. 

Of  all  the  materials  that  can  be  used  for  clothing, 
nothing  displays  better  than  fur  the  smoothness  and 
fairness  of  a  woman's  form.  At  the  sight  of  the  beau- 
tiful shoulders  and  still  more  exquisite  bosom  rising 
from  the  rough,  blackish-brown  skin  Periphas'  eyes 
dilated,  and  when  Byssa's  movements,  ere  she  succeeded 
in  seizing  the  sandal,  revealed  more  and  more  of  her 
nude  charms,  the  half-savage  Pelasgian's  passionate 
heart  kindled. 

He  cast  a  hurried  glance  towards  the  spot  where 
the  men  had  vanished  and,  as  he  neither  saw  nor  heard 
anything,  he  took  a  large  green  leaf  between  his  lips  to 
hide  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  drew  his  hood  down  to 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  37 

his  eyes,  burst  suddenly  out  of  the  bushes  and  leaped 
from  the  shore  into  the  stream. 

The  women,  shrieking  with  terror,  instantly  sprang 
to  their  feet. 

But  Periphas  paid  no  heed.  Seizing  Byssa,  who 
was  paralyzed  by  surprise,  in  his  arms,  he  bore  her, 
spite  of  her  struggles,  to  the  shore.  Like  all  well-de- 
veloped women  she  was  no  light  burden  and,  notwith- 
standing the  Pelasgian's  strength,  he  felt  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  him  to  carry  her  up  the  steep  bank 
and  therefore  put  her  down,  though  without  releasing 
his  hold  on  her  arm.  But  Byssa  no  sooner  felt  the 
solid  earth  under  her  feet  than  her  senses  returned. 

"  Help  !  Help  !"  she  screamed.  "  Shall  we  fear 
this  one  man  ?  Are  we  not  strong  enough  to  capture 
him?" 

And,  following  words  by  action,  she  boldly  grasped 
the  Pelasgian's  belt  with  her  left  hand,  which  was 
free. 

"  Quick !  quick  !"  she  added.  "  Only  hold  him  a 
moment  —  the  men  will  return  directly." 

Byssa's  courage  produced  its  effect.  The  women 
hurried  towards  her  from  all  sides;  yet  the  nearest 
gave  themselves  considerably  more  time  than  those 
who  were  farther  away. 

Periphas  perceived  that  his  position  was  very  criti- 
cal. Without  releasing  Byssa's  arm,  he  drew  his 
sword. 

"  Beware!"  he  shouted  fiercely,  "  I'll  hew  down  on 
the  spot  the  first  one  who  approaches." 


38  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

And,  as  Byssa  still  did  not  loosen  her  grasp  from 
his  belt,  he  muttered  between  his  teeth. 

"  Follow  me,  or  by  Zeus.  .  .  ."  He  did  not  finish 
the  sentence,  but  his  sinister  glance  left  no  doubt  of  his 
meaning. 

Byssa  trembled,  for  she  thought  of  the  soothsayer 
of  whose  death  she  had  heard. 

"  You  are  the  stronger  !"  she  said,  and  allowed  her- 
self to  be  led  up  the  bank  without  resistance. 

At  the  top  Periphas  turned  and  shouted  : 

"  Women,  the  first  one  who  shows  herself  here  I'll 
give  up  to  my  bondmen." 

But  the  Pelasgian  had  nothing  more  to  fear.  The 
sight  of  the  naked  sword  had  banished  the  women's 
courage. 

He  now  carried  Byssa  among  some  small  hills, 
where  a  low,  two-wheeled  vehicle,  drawn  by  two 
horses,  was  waiting  under  the  charge  of  a  slave.  "  Get 
in  !"  said  Periphas  imperiously,  then,  to  render  her  more 
yielding,  added  :  "  No  harm  shall  befall  you  !  I  only 
want  you  to  serve  me  as  a  hostage." 

"  I  will  obey,"  replied  Byssa,  "  but  on  condition 
that  you  don't  lay  hands  on  me  again." 

She  took  her  place  in  the  front  of  the  chariot,  rest- 
ing both  hands  on  the  top.  Periphas  grasped  the  reins, 
dismissed  the  slave  by  a  sign,  braced  his  feet  firmly 
against  the  inner  foot-board  and,  standing  behind  his 
enemy's  wife,  gave  his  steeds  the  rein,  swung  the  whip 
—  and  off  they  rattled  over  stock  and  stone. 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  39 


XL 


Meantime  the  men  had  wandered  a  considerable 
distance  from  the  fountain.  The  youths  succeeded  in 
driving  the  hare  into  a  snare,  whose  owner  thought  he 
had  exclusive  right  to  it,  while  those  who  had  driven 
it  into  the  trap  demanded  a  share  of  the  prize.  When 
the  older  people  came  up  their  opinions  differed  and, 
amid  the  dispute,  they  did  not  notice  the  screams  of 
the  women,  especially  as  they  often  shrieked  in  sporf 
when  they  splashed  water  upon  each  other. 

Suddenly  a  very  young  girl,  scarcely  beyond  child- 
hood, came  running  towards  them,  beckoning  with 
agitated  gestures  while  still  a  long  way  off.  The  men 
suspected  that  something  unusual  must  have  happened 
and  hurried  to  meet  the  messenger,  though  without  for- 
getting the  hare.  Weeping  bitterly,  she  told  them 
what  had  occurred. 

Her  hearers  were  filled  with  alarm. 

" Byssa  carried  off!"  exclaimed  the  oldest.  "Woe 
betide  us !  Woe  betide  us !  Curses  on  the  hare,  it  is 
the  cause  of  the  whole  misfortune." 

The  walk  home  from  the  fountain  was  very  differ- 
ent from  usual. 

In  those  days  it  was  not  well  to  be  the  bearer  of 
evil  tidings.  Lyrcus'  outbursts  of  fury  were  well 
known ;  it  was  also  known  how  passionately  he  loved 
Byssa,  and  no  one  felt  the  courage  to  tell  him  what  had 


40  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

happened.  Yet  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  hear 
it. 

The  party  had  almost  reached  the  Cychrean  cliff, 
and  still  no  plan  had  been  formed.  But  an  unexpected 
event  ended  their  indecision. 

Lyrcus  came  to  meet  the  returning  band. 

He  had  just  finished  his  task  of  forging  and,  after 
standing  in  the  heat  and  smoke,  it  was  doubly  pleasant 
to  breathe  the  cool  sea-breeze.  He  had  never  felt 
more  joyous  and  hght-hearted. 

"  How  silent  you  are !"  he  called  as  he  advanced. 
"  Have  the  women  lost  their  voices  ?  By  Pan,  that 
would  be  the  greatest  of  miracles." 

But  when  he  came  nearer,  seeing  their  troubled 
faces,  he  himself  became  grave,  and  with  the  speed  of 
Hghtning  his  glance  sought  Byssa. 

The  men,  one  by  one,  slunk  behind  the  women. 

"  Where  is  Byssa  ?"  said  Lyrcus. 

No  one  answered. 

He  now  put  the  same  question  to  a  very  young 
girl,  who  chanced  to  be  the  same  one  who  had  rushed 
from  the  fountain  to  meet  the  men  and  brought  the  ill- 
omened  message. 

Startled  by  the  unexpected  query,  she  turned  pale 
and  vainly  tried  to  answer;  her  throat  seemed 
choked. 

Lyrcus  seized  her  firmly  by  the  arm. 

"  Speak,  luckless  girl,  speak  !"  he  said.  "  What 
have  you  to  tell  ?" 

The  girl  strove  to  collect  her  thoughts,  and  in  fal- 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  4I 

tering  words  said  that  a  Pelasgian  had  sprung  out  of 
the  thicket  and  carried  Byssa  away. 

Then,  falHng  at  Lyrcus'  feet,  she  clasped  her  hands 
over  the  knife  he  wore  in  his  belt,  shrieking : 

"  Don't  kill  me.     I  did  nothing.  .  .  ." 

"  Where  were  the  men  ?"  asked  Lyrcus  sternly. 

She  was  silent. 

Where  were  the  men  ?"  Lyrcus  repeated,  in  a  tone 
which  demanded  an  answer. 

The  girl  clasped  his  knees  imploringly. 

"  They  had  gone  hunting,"  she  whispered  almost 
inaudibly. 

Several  minutes  passed  ere  Lyrcus  opened  his  lips. 
The  men  wished  the  earth  would  swallow  them ;  but 
their  chief's  thoughts  were  already  far  from  their  negli- 
gence. 

"  Who  was  the  Pelasgian  ?"  he  asked  with  a  calm- 
ness which,  to  those  who  knew  him,  boded  danger. 

No  one  replied. 

At  last  the  young  wife  who  had  flung  the  flowers 
into  Byssa's  lap  stepped  forward,  drew  the  kneeling 
girl  away  and,  without  raising  her  eyes  to  Lyrcus,  said 
with  a  faint  blush  : 

"  No  one  knew  the  ravisher.  He  held  in  his  mouth 
a  green  leaf  which  concealed  his  face.  But  Byssa  was 
forced  to  obey  him  or  she  would  have  been  killed  before 
our  eyes.  He  drew  his  sword.  .  .  .  Directly  after  we 
heard  a  chariot  roll  away." 

"  A  chief  then  !"  said  Lyrcus,  and  without  another 
word  he  returned  by  the  same  way  he  had  come. 


42  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Lyrcus  was  too  good  a  hunter  to  have  any  doubt 
what  he  should  do.  Going  directly  home  he  unfas- 
tened Bremon,  led  him  into  the  house,  and  let  him 
snuff  Byssa's  clothes,  repeating  : 

"  Where  is  she  ?     Where  is  Byssa  ?" 

The  dog  uttered  a  low  whine,  put  his  muzzle  to  the 
ground  and  snuffed  several  times,  wagging  his  tail  con- 
stantly as  if  to  show  that  he  knew  what  was  wanted. 
Lyrcus  buckled  his  sword  around  his  waist,  seized  a 
spear  and  shield,  flung  a  cloak  over  his  arm  and  led 
Bremon  out. 

The  dog  fairly  trembled  with  impatience,  and  with- 
out once  losing  the  trail  guided  Lyrcus,  who  held  his 
chain,  directly  to  the  fountain  of  Callirhoe. 

Here  he  followed  the  bank  of  the  river  a  short  dis- 
tance but  suddenly,  as  if  at  a  loss,  began  to  run  to  and 
fro  in  all  directions. 

Lyrcus  released  the  animal  but,  as  it  constantly  ran 
down  to  the  bank  and  snuffed  the  water,  the  chief  per- 
ceived that  Byssa  must  have  waded  out  into  the 
stream.  So  he  led  Bremon  along  the  shore,  hoping  to 
find  the  place  where  she  had  come  out  on  the  land. 

Suddenly  the  dog  stopped,  snuffed,  and  began  to 
wag  his  tail  again.  This  was  the  spot  where  Periphas 
had  put  Byssa  down  after  having  carried  her  to  the 
bank.  Bremon  now  led  Lyrcus  away  from  the  brink 
among  some  low  hills,  but  here  once  more  he  began  to 
run  to  and  fro  irresolutely  —  doubtless  where  Byssa 
had  entered  the  chariot. 

Meantime  night  had  closed  in. 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  43 

Lyrcus  at  first  thought  of  getting  a  torch,  but  soon 
perceived  the  impossibihty  of  following  the  trail  of  the 
chariot  by  torch-light.  There  vvas  nothing  to  be  done 
except  to  wait  for  morning. 

It  was  a  time  of  terrible  torture. 

Byssa  in  a  stranger's  power!  At  the  thought  he 
was  seized  with  a  frenzy  of  rage  that  almost  stifled  him. 
But  whither  should  he  turn  ?  Who  was  the  ravisher  — 
Periphas  ?  No,  he  would  not  have  had  courage  for 
such  a  deed  directly  after  a  defeat.  Besides,  the  ab- 
ductor seemed  to  have  gone  in  the  opposite  direction 
to  the  road  to  Periphas'  home. 

Lyrcus  did  not  know  that  the  Pelasgian  had  con- 
cealed himself  in  a  cave  in  Mt.  Hymettus. 


XII. 


While  Lyrcus  allowed  himself  to  be  led  by  Bremon, 
Periphas  was  continuing  his  wild  career.  At  the  foot 
of  a  distant  height  of  Hymettus  he  gave  the  chariot  to 
a  slave  and  ascended  the  mountain  with  Byssa,  who 
had  remained  perfectly  silent  during  the  whole  ride. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  cave  Periphas  cast  a  stolen 
glance  at  her.  The  young  wife's  face  was  clouded  and 
threatening;  not  only  the  expression  of  her  features, 
but  her  bearing  and  movements  showed  that  she  was 
filled  with  burning  wrath.  She  resembled  at  this 
moment  an  incensed  swan,  darting   along  with  half- 


44  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

spread  wings,  every  feather  ruffled  in  rage.  Periphas 
perceived  that  he  must  try  to  soothe  her. 

He  led  her  into  a  room  in  the  cave  where  a  clay 
lamp  was  burning  and  on  a  large  flat  stone  stood 
dishes  containing  barley  bread,  fruit,  honey,  and  milk. 

"  Do  not  grieve,  fair  Byssa,"  he  said,  "  A  man 
must  secure  himself  against  such  a  foe  as  Lyrcus.  ..." 

"  By  stealing  women  ?"  Byssa  contemptuously  in- 
terrupted. "  Is  that  the  custom  among  the  Pelasgians  ? 
Lyrcus  carried  home  neither  maids  nor  matrons." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  Periphas  calmly.  "  But  the 
Pelasgians  have  made  war  upon  the  Cychreans  and 
were  defeated.  As  one  of  the  chiefs  who  took  up  arms, 
I  have  everything  to  fear.  So  I  sought  a  hostage,  and 
where  could  I  find  a  better  one  than  the  woman  who 
is  most  dear  to  Lyrcus  ?" 

"  Your  tongue  is  smooth,  Periphas !  But  I  do  not 
trust  you." 

"  What  do  you  fear,  Byssa  ?  Hostages  are  sacred; 
you  are  as  secure  as  if  you  were  under  a  father's  roof" 

"  And  Lyrcus  !  Will  he  have  no  suspicion  ?  Will 
he  think  I  have  been  under  a  father's  roof?" 

"You  will  tell  him  so,  and  he  will  believe  you. 
The  inside  of  the  cave  is  yours;  no  one  shall  molest 
you.  You  will  be  compelled  to  stay  here  only  a  few 
days,  until  everything  is  arranged  between  the  Pelas- 
gians and  Cychreans." 

Byssa  gazed  sullenly  into  vacancy. 

"  Beware,  Periphas  !"  she  said.  "  This  will  surely 
bring  misfortune." 


ZEUS    HYPSISTOS.  45 

"  To  you  or  to  me  ?"  asked  Periphas. 

"  That  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Byssa.  "  But  one 
thing  I  do  know.     It  will  cause  bloodshed." 

Periphas  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Look,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  bear-skin  couch, 
"  you  can  rest  here  in  safety ;  you  must  be  weary. 
May  the  gods  grant  you  pleasant  dreams  —  in  the 
morning  everything  will  seem  brighter." 

With  these  words  he  left  her,  went  to  the  outer 
part  of  the  cavern,  passed  through  the  entrance,  and 
walking  several  paces  away  clapped  his  hands. 

There  was  a  rustling  sound  among  the  huge  piles 
of  mouldering  debris  above  the  cavern.  A  dark  figure 
clad  in  skins,  with  a  huge  staff  in  his  hand,  stood  out- 
lined against  the  grey  evening  sky.  It  was  the  herds- 
man who  supplied  the  cave  with  provisions. 

"  Have  you  done  what  I  ordered  ?"  asked  Periphas. 
"  Have  you  put  sentinels  on  both  sides  and  brought 
the  men  ?" 

"When  you  sound  the  horn,  Periphas,  twenty  Pe- 
lasgians  will  hasten  to  your  aid." 

"  Do  they  know  Lyrcus,  the  Cychrean  ?" 

"  Not  all  of  them,  but  some  do." 

"  Very  well.  When  he  comes,  the  men  must  hide 
until  he  is  half-way  between  them.  Then  let  him  be 
surrounded.  I  will  make  the  man  rich  who  brings  me 
Lyrcus  alive  or  dead.     Tell  the  warriors  so." 

Periphas  then  entered  the  cave  and  lay  down  on 
the  couch  of  skins  flung  behind  the  boulder  projecting 
at   the  entrance.     It  was  a  still,  star-lit   evening,  yet 


46  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

spite  of  the  peace  and  silence  without,  a  strange  rest- 
lessness seized  upon  him.  Sometimes  he  felt  a  pre- 
sentiment of  impending  misfortune,  at  others  he  exulted 
in  the  thought  of  having  Byssa  in  his  power.  Thanks 
to  the  green  leaf  he  had  held  in  his  mouth  when  he 
carried  her  away,  none  of  the  Cychreans  had  recog- 
nized him.  But  so  long  as  Lyrcus  knew  not  where  to 
turn  he  would  not  summon  the  warriors.  He  would 
pursue  his  quest  alone  and  fall  into  the  ambush.  At 
the  thought  Periphas  rubbed  his  hands  and  became  ab- 
sorbed in  planning  how  he  should  best  humiliate  his 
captive. 

The  night  was  far  advanced  ere  the  Pelasgian 
leader  fell  asleep.  A  strange  dream  visited  him.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  were  with  Byssa  —  when  he  felt  a  hand 
on  his  shoulder.  The  soothsayer  whom  he  had  mur- 
dered stood  before  him,  pale  and  rigid,  with  a  dark 
l)lood-stain  on  his  white  robes.  Periphas  stretched  out 
his  hand  to  keep  him  off,  touched  his  own  body,  felt 
with  horror  an  icy,  corpse-like  chill,  opened  his  eyes, 
and  was  broad  awake. 

As  he  rose  he  accidentally  laid  his  hand  on  the 
boulder  at  the  entrance.  It  was  dank  with  the  night- 
dew,  and  he  again  felt  a  chill. 

"  It  was  only  the  rock,"  he  muttered,  with  inex- 
pressible relief 

The  clear  dawn  brooded  over  the  land  like  a  soft 
grey  gleam.  The  mountains  were  wrapped  in  clouds 
and  vapor  and  the  swallows  were  twittering.  Periphas 
breathed  the  fresh  morning  air  and  felt  strengthened 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  47 

and  inspirited.  His  first  thought  was  that  in  the  cave, 
only  a  few  paces  firom  him,  he  had  the  fairest  woman 
in  the  Cychrean  city,  the  woman  whom  he  had  once 
wooed,  and  who  had  been  given  to  another. 

Doubtless  she,  like  himself,  had  at  last  fallen  asleep 
from  weariness.     He  must  go  to  her,  see  her. 

With  a  slight  shiver,  caused  by  emotion  more  than 
by  the  chill  air  of  the  morning,  he  bound  a  goat-skin 
around  his  loins,  buckled  a  belt  about  his  waist,  thrust 
his  knife  into  it  and  with  bare  feet  stole  noiselessly 
into  the  cave. 


xni. 

At  every  step  Periphas  took  the  darkness  increased, 
and  the  lamplight  in  the  inner  room  was  but  a  feeble 
substitute  for  the  dawning  day.  Yet  he  instantly  dis- 
tinguished the  light  figure  which  lay  extended  on  the 
black  skin. 

Byssa  slept  resting  on  her  side,  with  her  face  half 
averted.  Instead  of  lying  on  the  couch  wholly  un- 
dressed, with  her  garments  loosely  thrown  over  her, 
she  had,  probably  from  fear  of  some  nocturnal  visitor, 
retained  her  white  kirtle  and  spread  the  goat-skin  bod- 
ice over  her  breast. 

Holding  his  breath,  Periphas  stole  to  the  couch 
with  a  throbbing  heart. 

Byssa's  head  rested  on  her  round  arm  and  her  long 
black  hair  flowed  down  in  two  streams,  one  behind  her 


40  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

shoulders,  the  other  over  her  neck,  where  it  was  lost  in 
the  swelhng  outhnes  of  the  bust,  only  the  upper  portion 
of  which  could  be  seen  above  the  shaggy  edge  of  the 
bodice.  The  troubled  expression  of  her  features  had 
given  place  to  a  sweet  repose,  which  harmonized  per- 
fectly with  the  unconstrained  grace  of  her  recumbent 
attitude.  Her  cheeks  were  still  somewhat  paler  than 
usual,  but  her  half-parted  lips  were  ruddy  with  the 
freshness  of  youth.  In  her  slumber  she  had  drawn  her 
limbs  under  her  in  a  peculiarly  feminine  way,  and  from 
the  sea  of  white  folds  formed  by  her  garments  appeared 
a  naked  foot  as  smooth  and  plump  as  a  child's. 

Periphas  bent  softly  over  the  sleeper  and  listened  to 
her  calm,  regular  breathing.  He  felt  like  a  thief  who 
dreads  being  caught,  and  thought  with  terror  that  she 
might  open  her  eyes.  But  when  his  glance  fell  upon 
the  white  foot  that  peeped  from  under  the  garments,  he 
mentally  compared  Byssa  to  the  Pelasgian  women  who, 
according  to  ancient  custom,  climbed  the  mountains  to 
bring  the  shepherds  food,  and  with  their  brown  skins 
and  muscular  figures  closely  resembled  beasts  of  bur- 
den. He  could  not  avert  his  gaze  from  the  bare  foot. 
It  seemed  to  him  a  perfect  marvel  and,  even  at  the 
risk  of  waking  Byssa,  he  could  not  refrain  from  touch- 
ing it.  Slowly  and  cautiously  extending  his  huge  hand, 
he  took  hold  of  it  as  gently  as  if  it  had  been  a  little 
bird. 

Byssa  started  and  sat  erect  on  the  couch.  Half- 
stupefied  by  sleep,  she  pushed  her  long  hair  back  from 
her  eyes  with  both  hands,  but  scarcely  had  she  recog- 


ZEUS    HYPSISTOS.  49 

nized  the  Pelasgian  when  with  a  loud  shriek  she 
thrust  him  away. 

"  Wretch  !"  she  exclaimed  as  she  sprang  up  almost 
frantic  with  terror  and  fled. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  cave  she  felt  herself  seized 
and  stopped.     She  turned. 

Periphas  was  a  terrible  spectacle  ;  his  brown  cheeks 
were  deeply  flushed  and  his  eyes  flashed  like  a  wild- 
cat's. 

"  Woman  !"  he  gasped  breathlessly,  in  a  voice  trem- 
ulous with  passion.  "  You  are  in  my  power.  .  .  .  you 
shall  obey  me." 

But  Byssa  bent  backward  over  his  arm  to  get  as 
far  away  from  him  as  possible.  At  that  instant,  she 
remembered  her  father's  parting  charge :  "  Do  not 
abandon  Zeus  Hypsistos,  that  Zeus  Hypsistos  may  not 
abandon  you." 

She  called  loudly  upon  the  god's  name. 

Periphas  laughed. 

'5  Zeus  is  far  away,"  he  said. 

Byssa  gazed  wildly  around  the  cave,  expecting  to 
see  Lyrcus  appear  with  spear  and  shield.  But  no 
living  creature  was  visible  far  or  near  —  naught  save 
clouds  and  mountains. 

Again  Periphas  laughed. 

"  No  one  is  coming,"  he  murmured.  "  If  you  want 
to  be  saved,  help  yourself" 

The  words  darted  into  Byssa's  brain  like  a  flash  of 
lightning. 

Yes  !  —  it  was  "  a  voice  of  fate,"  a  sign  sent  by  the 


50  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

gods,   an    answer   to  her   appeal   placed   in  Periphas' 
mouth,  without  his  suspecting  it,  by  Zeus  himself. 

A  thrill  of  emotion  ran  through  her  frame  and  with 
all  the  strength  that  animates  a  person  who  believes 
himself  acting  in  the  name  of  a  god,  she  snatched  the 
knife  from  the  Pelasgian's  belt  and  with  the  speed  of 
light  drove  it  up  to  the  hilt  in  his  bare  breast. 

Periphas  staggered  back  a  step.  He  felt  no  special 
pain,  he  lost  very  little  blood,  yet  he  perceived  that  a 
change  was  taking  place  which  could  mean  nothing 
but  death. 

Turning  frightfully  pale,  he  tottered  and  covered 
his  eyes  with  both  hands  as  though  to  escape  a  sight 
full  of  awe  and  horror. 

"  The  soothsayer !"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  see  him.  .  .  . 
in  the  midst  of  the  darkness.  .  .  .  He  is  stretching  out 
his  arms  to  clutch  me." 

Then,  with  failing  voice,  he  murmured : 

"  That  was  the  prediction.  .  .  .  that  vile.  .  .  .  death 
by  a  woman's  hand." 

As  he  spoke,  without  an  effort  to  save  himself,  he 
fell  prostrate  on  the  ground  behind  the  boulder  at  the 
entrance  of  the  cave,  clouds  of  dust  whirling  upward 
around  him. 

Byssa,  so  brave  a  few  moments  before,  trembled 
from  head  to  foot.  Her  knees  could  no  longer  support 
her,  and  she  sank  down  on  a  rock  at  the  other  side  of 
the  entrance. 

Her  eyes,  as  if  by  some  magic  spell,  were  fixed 
upon  the  figure  behind  the  boulder.     She  saw  the  last 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  5I 

convulsions  shake  the  Pelasgian's  shoulders;  she  saw 
his  hand  clench  in  a  spasmodic  tremor ;  she  saw  the 
waxen  hue  of  a  corpse  spread  over  his  body  —  and 
could  not  avert  her  gaze. 


XIV. 

How  long  Byssa  sat  thus  she  knew  not. 

She  felt  neither  hope  nor  fear;  she  had  no  distinct 
consciousness  of  what  had  happened. 

A  shadow  passed  before  the  entrance  of  the  cave ; 
there  was  a  howl  of  joy,  and  Byssa  felt  herself  pushed 
against  the  cliff. 

It  was  Bremon,  who  in  delight  at  finding  her  trail 
at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  had  snatched  his  chain 
from  Lyrcus'  hand  and  now  leaped  upon  her,  over- 
whelming her  with  caresses. 

The  dog's  affection  cheered  Byssa's  heart ;  she 
roused  herself  from  her  stupor  and  covered  the  faithful 
animal  with  tears  and  kisses. 

Again  a  shadow  glided  past  the  opening  of  the 
cavern. 

Lyrcus,  armed  with  spear  and  shield,  stood  before 
her,  gazing  wildly  beyond  her  into  the  cave  as  though 
his  glance  sought  someone.  Then  he  looked  search- 
ingly  into  her  eyes,  as  if  he  would  fain  read  her  inmost 
soul. 

Byssa  rose  —  her   knees  no  longer  trembled.     As 


52  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

though  answering  the  doubt  in  her  husband's  glance, 
she  pointed  to  the  Pelasgian  stretched  in  the  dust  and 
said : 

"  I  have  killed  him." 

A  shudder  ran  through  Lyrcus'  limbs  and  he  stared, 
as  though  unable  to  trust  his  eyes,  at  the  lifeless  form 
lying  in  the  darkness. 

"  Byssa !"  he  cried,  stretching  out  his  arms  to  em- 
brace his  wife. 

But  she  shrank  back,  shrieking  : 

"  No,  no,  do  not  touch  me."  Then  in  a  low  tone 
she  added :  "  Shall  1  go  to  Mekone  to  be  purified  from 
the  blood  ?" 

"  For  a  moment  Lyrcus  made  no  answer,  then  he 
replied : 

"  No.  Go  to  your  father.  It  was  a  righteous 
murder." 

When,  a  short  time  after,  they  left  the  cave  Lyrcus 
lingered  behind  and,  unnoticed  by  his  wife,  drew  the 
murderous  weapon  from  the  wound  and  thrust  it  into 
his  own  belt. 

Scarcely  had  Bremen  followed  the  pair  out,  ere  in 
his  joy,  he  leaped  and  danced  around  them,  barking 
with  all  his  might. 

Instantly  the  whole  mountain  seemed  to  be  alive. 
The  loose  stones  above  the  cave  rattled  again  and, 
urged  by  some  dark  foreboding,  Periphas'  faithful 
herdsman  hastily  descended.  At  the  same  time,  from 
the  nearest  chasm  on  each  side,  emerged  half  a  score 
of  armed    men,    yawning,    rubbing    their    eyes,    and 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  53 

Straightening  their  skin  cloaks,  as  if  suddenly  roused 
from  sleep. 

The  shepherd  entered  the  cave,  but  instantly  came 
out  again,  looking  very  pale  and  troubled,  as  pointing 
to  the  two  retreating  figures  he  shouted  wrathfully : 

"  Seize  them !  They  have  killed  him.  .  .  .  with  his 
own  knife." 

The  sleepy  Pelasgians  opened  their  eyes  and  several 
recognized  the  Cychrean  leader. 

"  It's  Lyrcus  !"  they  shouted  to  the  other  party. 

"  Let  us  surround  him,"  was  the  reply. 

The  men  approached  from  both  sides  and  speedily 
formed  a  circle  around  the  departing  pair.  At  each 
step  they  took  the  ring  grew  smaller.  Bremon  noticed 
the  danger,  showed  his  teeth,  growled,  and  no  longer 
wandered  away  from  his  master. 

"  Keep  close  behind  me,  wife,"  said  Lyrcus. 

And,  to  obtain  greater  freedom  of  movement,  he 
took  off  his  upper  garment  and  flung  it  to  her.  Then, 
crouching  slightly  behind  his  shield,  he  waited  until  the 
difficulty  of  marching  on  the  uneven  surface  of  the 
mountain  should  make  a  breach  in  the  Pelasgians' 
circle. 

"  Follow  me !"  he  called  to  Byssa,  and  set  off  at  a 
run,  but  to  give  her  time  did  not  go  at  full  speed  and, 
ere  he  knew  it,  he  was  surrounded. 

With  the  courage  given  by  superior  strength  Lyrcus 
now  tried  to  fight  his  way  through.  He  felled  two 
Pelasgians  to  the  earth,  and  Bremon  furiously  attacked 
two  others  and  made  them  unfit  for  combat.     But  the 


54  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

poor  dog  was  soon  killed,  and  Lyrcus  needed  all  his 
skill  in  the  use  of  arms  to  defend  himself. 

Just  at  that  moment  a  loud  shout  was  heard  close 
at  hand. 

"  Hold !     In  the  name  of  the  gods,  hold !" 

A  youth  in  full  armor  suddenly  forced  his  way  to 
Lyrcus  and  covered  hfm  with  his  own  body. 

"  Pelasgians  !"  he  cried,  "  so  brave  a  warrior  ought 
not  to  die  thus.  .  .  .  one  against  many." 

Lyrcus'  assailants  let  their  weapons  fall  and  looked 
around  them  in  surprise.  They  were  already  out- 
flanked by  the  young  chieftain's  men. 

Several  raised  their  voices  : 

"This  Cychrean  has  killed  Periphas." 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  the  youth ;  "  I  heard  the  shep- 
herd call  to  you.  But  Periphas  fell  by  his  own  deeds. 
He  stole  this  man's  wife." 

Lyrcus  had  thrust  his  spear  into  the  ground  and 
used  his  sword  when  his  assailants  pressed  upon  him. 
He  now  drew  it  out  and  approached  the  young  leader. 

"  Who  are  you,  youth  ?"  he  asked  in  surprise ;  for 
he  perceived  by  the  new-comers'  arms  and  dress  that 
they  were  Pelasgians. 

"  My  name  is  Nomion,"  the  young  man  answered : 
"  I  am  a  son  of  Hyllus,  sumamed  '  the  old.'  Ten  days 
ago  he  gave  me  the  command  of  our  tribe.  A  few 
hours  after  I  assembled  the  other  chiefs  to  hold  a  coun- 
cil. My  most  ardent  desire  is  to  estabhsh  peace  and 
friendship  between  the  Pelasgians  and  Cychreans." 

Lyrcus  shook  his  head. 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  55 

"  It  will  be  no  easy  task.  There  is  blood  between 
us." 

"  I  can  smooth  over  Periphas'  murder,"  said  No- 
mion,  "  but  Tydeus'  assassination  is  a  harder  matter. 
How  did  he  perish  ?" 

"  He  fell  in  a  popular  brawl  one  day  when  I  was 
away  fishing." 

Nomion  nodded  with  a  look  of  satisfaction. 

"  I  thought  that  you  were  absent,"  he  said. 

Then,  turning  to  his  men,  he  shouted  in  a  loud 
voice : 

"  This  Cychrean  and  his  wife  are  free.  They  can 
go  where  they  list." 


XV. 


The  day  was  far  advanced  when  Lyrcus  and  his 
wife  reached  Kranaai.  Weighed  down  by  the  sin  of 
murder,  Byssa  could  not  enter  the  places  of  general  as- 
sembly and  it  was  only  with  difficulty  and  by  circuitous 
paths  that  she  approached  the  house  of  her  father,  the 
priest  Ariston. 

The  outer  room  was  empty  —  Byssa  entered  and 
silently  seated  herself  beside  the  hearth.  Lyrcus  thrust 
the  bloody  knife  he  had  brought  from  the  cave  into  the 
earth  at  her  feet. 

Then  he  turned  to  go ;  but  ere  he  did  so  fixed  his 
eyes  on  Byssa  with  a  half-anxious,  half-pitying  look. 
Jie  would  gladly  have  extended  his  hand  to  her,  uttered 


56  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

a  word  of  encouragement.  But  he  dared  not.  A  fugi- 
tive murderer,  until  the  rite  of  purification  had  been 
performed,  was  Uke  a  person  plague-stricken. 

Lyrcus  silently  departed.  Byssa  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands,  tears  trickled  through  her  fingers. 

As  she  sat  there  quietly  she  heard  the  business  of 
the  household  pursuing  its  usual  course.  Her  father 
was  whetting  his  sacrificial  knife,  her  mother  was  busy- 
ing herself  with  the  hand-mill,  and  the  female  slave  was 
chopping  wood  outside.  Then  her  mother  began  to 
hum  a  hymn : 

Zeus  Ombrius,  we  pray  thee 
Gentle,  fruitful  rain  to  send, 
Bless,  refresh  our  native  country, 
Bid  the  torturing  drought  to  end. 

How  well  Byssa  knew  those  notes !  Her  whole 
soul  yearned  for  her  parents  —  and  now  she  must  cause 
them  so  great  a  sorrow. 

She  dreaded  the  moment  when  her  father  would 
enter  and  see  her  sitting  by  the  hearth,  crime-stained 
and  unclean.  How  gladly  she  would  have  warned 
him,  that  the  surprise  and  shame  might  not  kill  the  old 
man !  But  a  single  word  from  her  lips  might  bring 
misfortune. 

So  she  remained  sitting  silently,  hiding  her  face 
with  both  hands.  Then  she  heard  a  rustling,  and  a  pe- 
culiar dry  cough  told  her  that  her  father  had  entered. 

A  convulsive  shudder  ran  through  her  limbs.  She 
dared  not  raise  her  eyes. 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  ^  57 

Ariston  had  come  to  put  a  vessel  used  to  hold  offer- 
ings in  its  place  in  a  recess  in  the  wall.  He  was  clad 
in  a  grey  garment,  worn  when  he  was  occupied  in  the 
house.  As  he  held  the  dish  up  to  the  light  to  see  if  it 
was  bright  his  glance  rested  upon  Byssa. 

At  the  sight  of  his  daughter,  sitting  humbly  beside 
the  hearth,  he  stared  at  her  as  though  she  were  some 
terrible  vision  in  a  dream  or  a  spectre  risen  from 
Hades.  He  could  not  believe  what  he  beheld  —  then 
he  perceived  the  knife  thrust  into  the  earth  at  her 
feet. 

His  face  blanched  almost  as  white  as  his  snowy 
beard,  the  vessel  fell  from  his  hand,  and  he  stood  for  a 
moment  as  though  turned  to  stone.  Then  he  pressed 
both  hands  on  his  breast. 

"  Horrible  !"  he  faltered.  "  Byssa.  .  .  .  my  gentle 
Byssa.  .  .  .  has  shed  blood !" 

Byssa's  mother,  Strybele,  appeared  in  the  doorway. 
Uttering  a  loud  cry,  she  rushed  with  outstretched  arms 
toward  her  daughter. 

Ariston  hastily  stepped  between  them. 

"Come!"  he  said,  and  with  resolute  authority  led 
his  wife  out  of  the  room. 

"  Ariston,"  whispered  the  poor  mother,  "  utter  no 
curses,  no  evil  words.  Remember,  she  is  your  daugh- 
ter." 

When  Ariston  returned  he  was  clad  in  his  priestly 
robes.  A  long  white  garment  fell  to  his  feet,  and  he 
wore  around  his  brow  a  chaplet. 

He  approached  Byssa.     In  the  deep  stillness  of  the 


58  '       PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

house  the  mother  was  heard  sobbing  and  praying 
within. 

Ariston,  raising  his  voice,  said  with  great  solem- 
nity : 

"  Zeus  was,  Zeus  is,  and  Zeus  Avill  be ;  oh,  supreme 
god  Zeus !  In  thy  name,  Catharsius,  cleanser  from  all 
guilt,  in  thy  name  Meilichius,  all-merciful  one,  I  say 
to.  .  .  .  this  woman.  .  .  ." 

At  the  last  word  his  voice  trembled. 

"  This  is  thy  command,  oh  Zeus.  Purification 
shall  be  given  to  him  who  comes  humbly  to  ask  for 
purification.  No  one  must  ask  his  name,  no  one  must 
inquire  the  name  of  him  who  is  slain ;  for  it  is  seemly 
to  keep  silence  in  the  presence  of  the  unclean.  But  no 
one,  neither  man  nor  woman,  shall  refuse  to  yield  him 
the  blessing  of  purification." 

Ariston  then  brought  the  animal  to  be  sacrificed,  a 
tiny  sucking-pig.  The  blood  flowed  from  a  wound 
in  the  neck. 

At  the  sight  of  the  red  stream  he  fixed  an  accusing 
glance  on  his  daughter's  head  and  then  raised  his  eyes 
to  Heaven,  as  though  seeking  refuge  from  inexpress- 
ible agony. 

"  Woman,"  he  murmured,  "  prepare  !" 

Byssa  stretched  out  her  arms. 

Ariston  held  the  animal  before  her  and  let  the 
blood  stream  down  over  her  hands,  repeating  in  a  low 
voice : 

"  Blood  expiates  blood." 

Then  he  brought  a  basin  of  consecrated  water  in 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  5^ 

which  Byssa's  mother,  to  strengthen  its  effect,  had 
placed  a  brand  from  the  altar  before  the  house. 

Invoking  Zeus  as  the  god  of  purification  and  the 
guardian  of  those  who  prayed,  he  washed  Byssa's 
hands  and  arms.  When  this  was  accomplished  he 
burned  the  cakes  and  other  offerings,  first  pouring  on 
them  as  a  libation  water  mixed  with  honey  —  mean- 
time praying  that  Zeus  would  restrain  the  wrath  of  the 
goddess  of  vengeance  and  show  himself  merciful  and 
gracious. 

Then,  taking  Byssa's  hand,  he  drew  her  up  from 
the  hearth. 

"  My  daughter,"  he  said,  "  the  blood  is  expiated 
and  the  uncleanness  washed  away  with  consecrated 
water.  Thou  art  no  longer  an  outcast,  odious  to  the 
gods.  Thou  canst  again  enter  the  places  of  assem- 
blage and  the  temples  consecrated  to  the  deities ;  thou 
canst  once  more  mingle  among  thy  companions,  amid 
bond  and  free.  But  this  is  not  all.  Now  that  thou 
hast  obtained  the  forgiveness  of  the  gods,  thou  must  be 
answerable  to  men.  .  .  ." 

Strybele  anxiously  entered,  approached  Ariston, 
and  seized  his  arm. 

"  What  will  be  done  to  her  ?"  she  asked. 

"Justice." 

"  Will  she  be  punished  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  she  has  sinned. 

With  these  words  Ariston  led  his  daughter  into  the 
inner  room.  A  cold  perspiration  stood  on  his  brow, 
and  the  muscles  around  his  lips  quivered.     He  who 


6o  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

had  cleansed  Byssa  from  blood  did  not  yet  know 
whose  blood  she  had  shed. 

"  Speak!"  he  said,  "and  conceal  nothing  from  us." 

Strybele  silently  pressed  her  daughter's  hand. 

Byssa  raised  her  calm  black  eyes  to  her  father's 
face  and  answered : 

"  I  have  nothing  to  conceal." 

Then  she  related  the  expedition  to  the  fountain,  the 
abduction,  and  the  stay  in  the  cave  on  Mt.  Hymettus. 
But  when  she  spoke  of  her  appeal  to  Zeus  and  the 
sacred  tremor  with  which,  as  swiftly  as  the  lightning, 
she  had  obeyed  the  god's  sign,  Ariston's  eyes  sparkled 
and,  bending  low  with  his  arms  folded  on  his  breast, 
he  said : 

"  Zeus  deserts  no  one.  But  praised  be  thou,  my 
daughter,  for  having  heard  the  god's  voice.  In  saving 
yourself,  you  slew  the  Cychreans'  foe.  The  nation  to 
which  thy  husband  belongs  owes  thee  thanks  and 
honor." 

Strybele  pressed  Byssa  to  her  bosom  and  mother 
and  daughter,  clasped  in  each  other's  embrace,  wept 
long  together. 


XVI. 

At  noon  Lyrcus  came  back  to  Kranaai  for  his  wife. 
He  found  her  reconciled  to  gods  and  men,  gay  and 
happy  in  the  reverent  admiration  of  her  parents. 
Ariston  was  proud  of  his  daughter's  having  received  a 


'  ZEUS    HYPSISTOS.  6l 

sign  from  Zeus,  and  Strybele  tenderly  smoothed  her 
dark  hair  as  though  she  were  still  a  child. 

The  meeting  between  Lyrcus  and  Byssa  was  as 
touching  as  if  there  had  been  a  long  separation. 

On  their  return  to  the  Cychrean  city  they  found 
the  place  of  assembly  filled  with  an  anxious  throng. 
Several  boys,  while  returning  from  bird-snaring,  had 
seen  in  the  distance  parties  of  Pelasgians  moving 
towards  the  cliff. 

Lyrcus  carried  Byssa  into  the  house  and  then,  hur- 
rying to  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  gazed  out  over  the  plain. 

He  had  not  waited  long  ere  dark  groups  appeared 
from  between  the  low  hills.  There  were  more  than 
one  chieftain's  men. 

Lyrcus  was  already  in  the  act  of  calling  his  people 
to  arms,  when  his  eye  fell  on  several  Pelasgians  march- 
ing in  front  of  the  others  and  among  them  Nomion. 
The  young  chief  held  in  his  left  hand  an  olive  branch 
and,  instead  of  resting  his  lance  on  his  shoulder  he 
carried  it  under  his  arm,  with  its  point  turned  towards 
the  earth. 

At  this  sign  of  peace  Lyrcus  felt  great  relief,  and 
the  feeling  was  much  strengthened  when  Nomion  and 
his  companions  left  their  men  behind  a  bow-shot  from 
the  cliff. 

Shortly  after  the  young  Pelasgian,  accompanied  by 
three  or  four  other  leaders,  stood  before  Lyrcus. 
When  he  had  heard  their  errand  he  sounded  the  horn 
five  times  as  a  signal  for  the  assembling  of  the  oldest 
and  most  respected  men  in  the  tribe. 


62  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

After  all  had  met  and  formed  a  large  semi-circle  in 
the  place  of  assemblage,  Lyrcus  stepped  forward  with 
Nomion  by  his  side. 

"  Cychreans !"  he  shouted,  "  listen  in  silence  to 
what  this  stranger  has  to  say." 

Then  he  asked  Nomion  to  step  on  a  block  of  stone, 
where  he  could  be  seen  and  heard  by  all. 

The  young  Pelasgian  chief  had  laid  aside  helmet, 
armor,  spear,  and  shield.  A  gold  circlet  confined  his 
waving  black  hair,  and  a  white  cloak  with  a  broad  yel- 
low border  fell  in  graceful  folds  a  little  below  his 
knees.  All  eyes  rested  with  pleasure  on  the  handsome 
youth. 

"  Cychreans !"  he  said  in  a  clear,  loud  voice,  "  we 
Pelasgians  have  come  —  if  you  agree  —  to  conclude 
peace  and  form  an  alliance  with  you." 

A  murmur  of  approval  greeted  the  words;  for 
though  the  Cychreans  had  recently  conquered,  the 
horrors  of  war  were  too  freshly  remembered  for  them 
not  to  prefer  peace. 

"  As  you  know,"  Nomion  continued,  "  we  live  in 
friendship  with  the  Cranai.  We  now  desire  that  there 
shall  also  be  a  good  understanding  between  us  and  you. 
One  of  our  chiefs,  who  was  your  bitterest  foe,  is  no 
more.  He  was  a  rich  and  distinguished  man,  and  his 
funeral  will  be  so  magnificent  that  it  will  be  talked 
about  far  and  wide.  A  huge  pyre  shall  be  erected  for 
him  and  tall  urns,  filled  with  oil  and  honey,  shall  be 
placed  at  the  corners  of  the  bier;  sheep  and  oxen, 
dogs  and  horses  shall  be  slain  and  burned  upon  the 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS.  63 

pyre.  But  one  thing  we  will  not  do  —  we  do  not 
mean  to  avenge  his  death.  He  is  responsible  for  his 
own  deeds,  and  it  is  a  just  punishment  that  he  fell  by  a 
woman's  hand.  Since  he  had  taken  her  for  a  hostage, 
she  ought  to  have  been  sacred  to  him." 

"  Yes,  yes,  the  youth  speaks  the  truth !"  murmured 
the  Elders,  and  some  applauded  him. 

After  Nomion  had  explained  his  wishes  more  defin- 
itely and  some  of  the  Elders  of  the  Cychrean  nation 
had  spoken,  both  parties  agreed  to  conclude  peace  and 
form  an  alliance  for  twenty  years. 

Lyrcus,  with  an  impatient  gesture,  said : 

"Then  I  can  close  my  forge  and  break  my  weapons." 

Nomion  smiled. 

"  You  don't  mean  that,  Lyrcus,"  he  replied,  "  for 
what  man  is  mad  enough  to  prefer  war  to  peace  ?  Is 
not  war  like  a  tempest  or  an  earthquake  ?  It  turns 
everything  upside  down.  In  peace  the  sons  bury  their 
fathers,  but  in  war  fathers  bury  their  sons." 

To  strengthen  the  compact  a  lamb  was  offered  to 
Zeus,  to  the  sun,  and  to  the  earth  —  to  Zeus  and  the 
sun  a  white  wether  for  the  glittering  masculine  di- 
vinity, but  to  the  earth  a  black  ewe-lamb  as  if  to  a 
female  deity  that  acted  in  secret.  During  the  offerings 
prayers  were  addressed  not  only  to  the  three  gods,  but 
to  the  rivers  and  to  the  deities  of  the  nether  world  who 
avenge  perjury. 

Finally  there  was  a  foaming  mixture  prepared  from 
Cychrean  and  Pelasgian  wine,  and  during  the  libation 
an  invocation  was  solemnly  repeated. 


64  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

"Oh,  Zeus!  oh,  Sun,  oh  Earth!  ...  If  any  one 
dares  to  violate  this  compact,  let  his  brains  and  his 
childrens'  brains  be  poured  out  on  the  ground  like  this 
wine." 

Thus  they  sought  to  secure  peace. 

After  the  sacrifices  were  finished,  several  voices 
shouted : 

"Hail  to  Lyrcus!  The  honor  is  his  —  he  trained 
us  in  the  use  of  arms." 

"  Hail  to  Byssa  !"  cried  another, 

"  Honor  to  Byssa,  Byssa  the  strong  and  brave. 
She  has  received  a  sign  from  Zeus." 

"  She  killed  the  man  who  brought  war  upon  us." 

"  Hail  to  Byssa!     We  want  to  see  Byssa." 

Lyrcus  smiled,  yet  his  brows  contracted  in  a  frown. 
He  felt  half  proud,  half  jealous. 

But  the  shouts  became  so  loud  and  persistent  that 
he  was  forced  to  yield  and  hurried  into  his  house. 

When  he  came  out  again,  leading  Byssa  by  the 
hand,  every  eye  was  fixed  upon  the  pretty  native  of 
Kranaai. 

She  wore  an  ample  snow-white  over-garment  and 
on  her  head  a  blue  Sidonian  veil,  which  encircled  her 
black  hair  like  a  wreath 

Hundreds  of  voices  greeted  her  with  the  shout : 

"  Hail,  Byssa !  Avenger  of  thyself  and  of  thy 
people." 

Byssa  stood  motionless,  pale  with  emotion.  Lyr- 
cus made  a  sign  that  he  wished  to  speak  5  but  the 
people  cried :    "  No,  no,  let  thy  wife  speak." 


ZEUS     HYPSISTOS. 


65 


Byssa  blushed  and  lowered  her  eyes,  but  she  did 
not  lose  her  presence  of  mind. 

A  death-like  silence  reigned  over  the  whole  place 
and,  though  Byssa  did  not  speak  loudly,  every  word 
uttered  by  her  clear,  resonant  voice  reached  the  far- 
thest ranks  of  soldiers. 

"  Cychreans !"  she  said,  "  women,  it  seems  to  me, 
should  be  silent  among  men ;  for  only  a  man  is  fit  to 
answer  men.  Yet,  since  you  give  me  liberty  to  speak, 
know  that  I  have  only  fulfilled  a  higher  command. 
So  raise  your  voices  with  me  and  say  :  Praised  be  the 
supreme  god,  Zeus  Hypsistos." 

Then  a  deafening  shout  was  raised  by  hundreds  of 
voices.     Even  the  clifis  repeated  : 

"Zeus  Hypsistos." 

From  that  day  Lyrcus  never  asked  Byssa  to  accom- 
pany the  other  women  to  Melite's  sanctuary.  And 
when  some  talked  of  the  miracles  performed  by  the 
goddess  of  the  place  he  smiled  like  one  who  knows 
better  and  said : 

"  Yet  Zeus  is  the  mightiest." 


THE    SYCOPHANT. 


SECOND    YEAR    OF    THE    89TH    OLYMPIAD    (423   B.C.) 


THE    SYCOPHANT. 


I. 


Callippides  was  universally  detested  in  Athens. 
Every  one  knew  him  to  be  one  of  the  most  dangerous 
informers,  who  lived  by  extorting  money  from  people 
by  threatening  them  with  some  ruinous  impeachment. 

When  he  entered  a  workshop,  a  hair-dresser's,  or  a 
lesche,  *  any  of  the  places  where  the  citizens  met  to  dis- 

*  A  sort  of  portico,  supplied  with  seats,  and  free  to  all. 


70  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

CUSS  the  incidents  of  the  day  or  to  drive  a  bargain,  one 
after  another  stole  away  till  he  was  left  alone.  If  he 
bought  a  fillet  from  one  of  the  pretty  perfume  dealers 
in  the  market-place,  she  put  his  copper  coins  aside 
that  they  might  not  become  mixed  with  the  other 
money  and  so  bring  ill-luck  to  the  day's  receipts; 
if  he  spoke  in  the  street  to  a  female  slave  who  knew 
the  residents  of  the  city  she  hurried  off,  and  if  he  had 
merely  laid  the  tips  of  his  fingers  on  her  arm,  she 
rubbed  it  with  the  palm  of  her  hand  as  though  some 
poisonous  reptile  had  touched  her.  If  he  was  seen  in 
any  one's  company  more  than  once,  that  person  was 
known  to  be  a  timid  man  who  was  trying  to  flatter  and 
cajole  him  in  order  to  be  safe  from  him.  In  other 
respects  he  led  so  solitary  a  life  that  a  well-known 
jester,  the  parasite  Meidias,  said  of  him  that  "  the  only 
thing  that  stood  near  him  was  his  shadow." 

Yet  there  was  one  person  in  Athens  who  valued 
him.  This  was  Pyrrhander,  the  Ildmand,  *  to  whom 
he  was  inestimable  in  tracking  the  hetaeriae  or  secret 
societies  and  who,  when  Callippides  was  mentioned, 
used  to  say :  "  He's  the  best  sleuth-hound  in  our 
pack." 

The  sycophant  was  by  no  means  frightful  in  his  ex- 
ternal appearance.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  a  stately 
man.  Of  noble  lineage,  he  had  belonged  in  his  youth 
to  the  select  circle  of  the  "  gilded  youth  "  of  Athens, 
and  in  the  company  of  the  young  Eupatridae,  Proxe- 

*  Ildmand  —  the  red-haired,  seems  to  have  been  a  nickname  for 
Cleon,  who  at  this  time  was  treasurer,    (Aristophanes,  equites  v.  901.) 


THE     SYCOPHANT.  7 1 

nides  and  Theagenes,  he  had  squandered  his  ancestral 
property  in  a  few  years  upon  horses  and  chariots.  At 
every  horse  and  chariot  race  he  was  seen  among  the 
most  excited  spectators.  No  one  could  say  how  often 
he  had  been  thrown  from  his  chariot  while  swinging 
around  the  race-course,  or  how  frequently  a  snorting, 
foaming  team  of  four  horses  had  been  driven  over  him. 
The  last  time  this  had  happened  he  had  been  kicked  so 
violently  on  the  head  by  one  of  the  steeds  that  he 
always  bore  the  mark  of  it.  He  was  so  severely  in- 
jured that  the  physician,  Pittalus,  had  already  sent  a 
messenger  for  the  wailing  women. 

When  Callippides  regained  his  health,  his  passion  for 
horses  and  chariots  was  at  an  end.  His  fortune  was 
expended  and,  like  so  many  Athenians  of  rank  before 
him,  he  now  sold  his  last  Samphora  steed  and  bought 
the  sandals  of  a  sycophant.  With  this  foot-covering, 
which  made  every  step  noiseless,  he  stole  around  the 
market-place  like  a  snake  or  a  scorpion,  listened  to 
backbiters,  came  behind  whispering  couples,  questioned 
slaves  and  soon  became  as  full  of  unsavory  secrets  as 
a  marsh  is  full  of  croaking  frogs.  These  secrets  he 
used  for  his  own  profit  and  the  ruin  of  others. 

In  his  almost  deserted  house  in  the  street  of  the 
Potters  not  far  from  the  Pnyx,  the  market,  and  the 
Prytaneum  he  had  a  strange,  dismal  room,  whose  like 
was  not  to  be  found  in  Athens,  and  which  he  jestingly 
called  his  Opisthodomus,  treasure-chamber.  The  name 
was  no  pious  one  and  showed  no  deep  reverence  for 
the  gods ;  for  the  real  Opisthodomus,  the  apartment 


72  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

where  the  treasures  of  the  state  were  kept,  was  a 
sacred  place  behind  the  Parthenon  and  was  placed 
under  the  protection  of  Athene  Polias,  the  defender  of 
the  city.  But  Callippides  only  used  this  title  when  he 
was  talking  to  his  faithful  old  Manes,  a  slave  nearly 
seventy  years  old  who,  like  the  house,  had  been  a 
legacy  to  him  from  his  ancestors. 

Whoever  had  expected  to  find  gold  and  silver  in 
Callippides'  treasure-chamber  would  have  been  greatly 
mistaken. 

The  apartment  was  almost  empty,  the  only  fur- 
niture it  contained  being  an  old  arm-chair,  a  sort  of 
high  seat  with  a  foot-stool  beside  a  little  table.  The 
riches  of  the  chamber  consisted  of  the  notes  which 
covered  its  white  walls  —  all  written  in  a  firm,  elegant 
hand.  They  were  found  by  the  score,  were  as  tersely 
composed  as  possible,  and  were  all  accurately  marked 
with  the  day,  month,  and  Archon's  year.  Over  the 
door  leading  to  the  peristyle  were  the  following  inscrip- 
tions : 


"POLYCLES,  SON  OF  StRATON.  "  MANTITHEUS,   SON  OF  CTESI- 

^*  Accused  of  deserting  fiom  the  "  PHON.    Accused  of  secret  tin- 

''tuiiitary  service.       Sentenced  '^  derstanding    with    the   Spar- 

"  to  the  LOSS  OF    THE    RIGHTS  ^^  tans.     Han  away.    Punished 

"OF  CITIZENSHIP,    THOUGH  '^  l>y  the  erection  of  a  pillar  of 

"WITHOUT      FORFEITURE      OF  " /;//(7WJ  INSCRIBED  WITH   HIS 

"PROPERTY.  "  NAME. 


These  and  a  number  of  other  notes  were  written 
with  charcoal ;  but  directly  over  the  entrance,  in  the 
most  conspicuous  place  in  the  room,  there  were  a  large 


THE     SYCOPHANT. 


73 


collection  written  with  red  chalk  and  embracing  the 
most  severe  and  terrible  punishments.  The  first  and 
second  of  these  inscriptions  ran  as  follows  : 


"  STEPHANOS,    SON   OF    EUCTE-  **  NAUSICRATES,    SON  OF  GLAU- 

"MON.       Accused    of   treason.  "CUS.       Accused     of    having 

*^  Sentenced    TO     DRINK     THE  ^' tejnpted    his     step-7nother    to 

"HEMLOCK.  "commit    adultety.       HURLED 

"INTO   THE   GULF. 


Yet  in  his  way  Callippides  seemed  to  be  an  honest 
man,  for,  little  as  it  might  have  been  expected,  here 
and  there  appeared  a  sentence  whose  result  had  gone 
against  him,  as  for  instance  : 


"POLEMARCHUS,  SON  OF  CALLIAS.  Accused  of 
"fraud.  Sentenced  by  the  Forty  to  loss  of  the  rights 
"  of  citizenship  and  forfeiture  of  property.  The 
decree  declared  invalid  by  the  dicasts  of  the 
people  because  founded  on  the  deposition  of  a  false 
witness. 


True,  this  inscription  was  placed  in  the  darkest 
comer,  where  no  one  would  easily  seek  it,  and  what 
the  record  did  not  relate  was  that  the  affair  had  almost 
proved  a  bad  one  for  Callippides  —  so  bad  that  Pyrr- 
hander,  the  Ildmand,  had  required  all  his  influence  to 
save  him.  But  this  concealment  must  be  regarded  as 
an  allowable  military  stratagem. 

It  is  certain  that  the  "  treasure-chamber "  rarely 
failed  in  its  purpose.  Here  Callippides  used  to  bring 
his  victims,  the  unfortunates  who  were  threatened  with 
a  dangerous  accusation.     Scarcely  did  they  find  them- 


74  ■      PICTURES    OF    HELLAS, 

selves  here  when,  on  some  pretext,  he  left  them  alone. 
As  they  read  the  gloomy  records,  read  them  by  scores, 
at  first  with  surprise,  then  with  anxiety,  and  finally  with 
increasing  fear,  there  were  few  who  had  confidence  in 
the  justice  of  their  cause.  As  they  stood  there  alone 
with  throbbing  hearts,  quaking  with  dread  lest  every- 
thing which  in  a  short  time  would  belong  to  their  Past 
should  make  a  fresh  inscription  on  these  ill-boding 
walls,  the  written  characters  gradually  began  to  run 
into  each  other  before  their  eyes ;  the  red  letters 
seemed  to  be  inscribed  with  blood,  and  even  firm,  brave 
men  were  ready,  almost  without  exception,  to  come  to 
terms  with  Callippides  without  bargaining  as  to  price,  if 
he  would  only  promise  to  let  the  accusation  drop.  In 
this  way  the  "treasure-chamber"  justified  its  name, 
there  was  not  a  little  money  in  it. 

Strangely  enough  there  was  one  place  in  the  room 
where  a  whole  row  of  records  was  erased,  leaving  only 
a  dark  stain  on  the  white  wall.  It  had  happened  in 
this  way. 

From  the  first  the  old  slave.  Manes,  had  not  liked 
these  notes.  During  the  greater  part  of  his  life  he  had 
served  Philocles,  Callippides'  father.  The  latter  had 
been  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  Athenian 
citizens  and  had  filled  the  most  important  offices ;  he 
had  been  commander  of  a  trireme,  inspector  of  the  city 
walls,  and  member  of  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred. 
Messengers  from  tributary  cities  never  came  to  Athens 
without  seeking  him,  to  bring  him  costly  gifts,  as  one 
of  her  principal  citizens. 


THE     SYCOPHANT.  75 

The  room  in  which  he  used  to  receive  them  was 
the  prettiest  in  the  house,  and  richly  furnished  with 
brass  tripods,  ivory  couches,  magnificent  vases,  and 
Milesian  carpets. 

This  was  the  apartment  of  which  the  son,  Cal- 
lippides,  made  so  unworthy  a  use.  Every  time  a  new 
inscription  was  placed  on  the  walls  which  to  Manes 
seemed  so  sacred  he  felt  as  though  he  had  received  a 
stab  in  his  honest  old  heart.  One  day,  when  the  num- 
ber had  again  increased,  he  plucked  up  courage  and, 
without  asking  permission,  he  was  beginning  to  wash 
the  walls  as  if  merely  intending  to  clean  the  room. 
But  he  had  scarcely  commenced,  when  Callippides 
came  behind  him. 

Their  eyes  met.  The  master  looked  so  sharply  at 
the  servant  that  for  the  first  time  in  many  years  the  old 
man's  pale,  wrinkled  cheeks  flushed. 

"  Well,  well !"  said  Callippides  drily  and,  without 
another  word,  he  seized  the  largest  whip  he  had  left 
from  the  time  of  his  passion  for  horse-racing  and  be- 
labored the  luckless  Manes'  back  until  the  shrieking 
slave  clasped  his  knees  and  begged  for  mercy. 

"  Blockhead !"  muttered  Callippides,  flinging  the 
scourge  into  a  corner,  "  don't  you  know  that  these 
notes  are  my  livelihood." 

From  that  day  the  old  man  never  meddled  with  the 
inscriptions. 

Whatever  the  "  treasure-chamber  "  brought  in,  Cal- 
lippides had  not  succeeded  in  making  a  new  fortune. 
Men  like  him,  with  a  restless  mind  and  tireless  body. 


76  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

only  give  up  one  passion  to  devote  themselves  to 
another.  He  who,  Avhen  a  youth,  had  cared  for 
nothing  except  horses  and  chariots,  now,  in  his  fortieth 
year,  could  not  see  a  pretty  hetsera  fasten  up  her  dress 
to  dance  without  having  his  heart  kindle  with  the  most 
ardent  love.  It  was  no  longer  Menippus,  the  horse- 
dealer,  but  Philostratus,  the  go-between,  with  whom  he 
had  business.  Just  before  we  made  his  acquaintance 
it  was  said  that,  by  a  written  agreement,  he  had  hired 
the  key  of  Philostratus'  garden  gate  for  two  months 
that  he  might  be  able  to  steal  in  to  visit  his  youngest 
daughter,  fifteen  year  old  Charixena.  This  bargain,  in 
which  the  father  had  sold  his  daughter,  was  rumored 
to  have  cost  Callippides  two  bright  staters.*  It  was 
with  the  profit  of  his  wiles,  with  blood-money,  that  he 
paid  for  the  key  of  the  quiet  room  where  Dionysus  and 
Aphrodite,  the  deities  of  joy,  were  to  receive  him. 

But  Aphrodite  did  not  allow  herself  to  be  mocked. 

Behind  Callippides'  house  lay  a  garden  which  was 
in  a  very  neglected  condition,  so  overgrown  with 
weeds  that  there  was  scarcely  an  avenue  or  path,  and 
the  statue  of  Hermes  in  front  of  the  house  had  fallen 
and  rested  on  one  side.  An  old  stone  seat  under  a  tall 
leafy  plane-tree  was  in  better  preservation,  and  here 
Callippides  used  to  seek  coolness  and  shade  during  the 
burning  heat  of  noon. 

While  resting  there  one  day,  half  drowsily  turning 
the  leaves  of  a  yellow  roll  of  manuscript,  he  heard  a 

*A  stater  was  about  20  drachmae  —  at  that  time  a  considerable 
sum.     An  archon  received  for  his  daily  pay  only  2  drachmae. 


THE     SYCOPHANT.  77 

door  in  the  next  house  open  and  saw  a  young  female 
slave  come  out  to  spread  a  carpet  over  a  prettily- 
carved  aidra  (swing)  which  was  hung  in  the  shadiest 
place  between  the  pillars  of  the  house.  Directly  after 
a  little  girl  seven  or  eight  years  old,  dressed  in  white, 
came  skipping  out  and  was  lifted  on  to  the  rug  by  the 
slave.  But  the  swing  had  scarcely  been  set  in  motion 
before  it  began  to  rock  unsteadily  and  the  child,  grow- 
ing impatient,  leaned  back  in  the  seat  and  shouted  : 

"  No,  Chloris,  not  you !  Stop,  stop !  My  sister 
knows  how  to  do  it  a  great  deal  better."  Then  the 
little  one  began  to  scream  with  all  her  might :  "  Mel- 
itta,  Melitta!" 

The  sycophant,  whose  profession  required  him  to 
know  everything,  remembered  at  the  child's  call  that 
the  young  girl  who  bore  this  name  must  be  a  daughter 
of  General  Myronides,  who  had  recently  inherited  the 
next  house,  and  that  she  was  reputed  to  be  amechanos 
kale,  irresistibly  pretty.  So  it  was  not  without  eager 
expectation  that  he  awaited  her  coming.  Then  he 
heard  a  young  girl's  voice  inside  the  house,  singing ; 

"Amid  the  vines,  amid  the  leaves 
Peer  forth  the  lustrous  grapes.  ..." 

The  singer  approached,  and  Callippides'  heart 
throbbed  faster. 

But  he  was  not  taken  by  surprise  when  the  door 
opened.  Rumor  had  told  the  truth;  for  she  was 
beautiful,  fairer  than  any  woman  he  had  ever  seen  — 


yS  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

half  child,  half  maiden,  like  Polycleitus'  bewitching 
basket-bearers.* 

She  laughed  so  gaily  and  carelessly  at  her  little 
sister's  impatience  that  her  dark  eyes  sparkled  and  her 
white  teeth  glittered  between  her  scarlet  lips,  then  as 
the  child  turned,  stretching  its  arms  towards  her,  she 
darted  to  her,  embracing  and  kissing  the  little  one. 

"Swing  me,  Melitta,  swing  me!"  cried  the  child. 
"  Chloris  can't  do  it." 

Melitta  fastened  the  purple  fillet  tighter  around  her 
black  locks,  removed  the  upper  garment  worn  over  her 
red-bordered  dress,  and  told  the  slave  to  carry  it  into 
the  house ;  then,  leaning  forward,  she  put  the  swing  in 
motion. 

So  this  was  Melitta,  the  irresistibly  pretty  Melitta. 

Callippides'  glance  rested  as  though  spell-bound  on 
the  young  maiden  with  the  dark  eyes,  smiling  lips,  and 
slender,  girlish  figure.  As  she  stood  there  in  her  light 
robe  in  the  shadow  between  the  pillars  of  the  house, 
she  was  surrounded  by  such  an  atmosphere  of  purity 
that  it  defended  her  like  a  shield  against  evil  thoughts. 
From  the  black  curls  that  slipped  out  beneath  the 
purple  fillet  to  the  gold-broidered  sandals  everything 
about  her  was  full  of  childlike  grace. 

"  Higher !"  cried  the  little  girl  joyously,  striking  her 
feet  together  till  the  sandal  straps  clapped. 

*  Basket-bearers.  This  was  the  name  given  to  a  chosen  band  of 
citizens'  daughters  who,  at  the  Panathenaic  Festival,  took  part  in  the 
great  procession  of  the  whole  Athenian  population.  They  carried  on 
their  heads  baskets  containing  offerings.  A  representation  in  marble 
of  these  beautiful  Attic  virgins  was  the  sculptor  Polycleitus'  most 
famous  work. 


THE     SYCOPHANT.  79 

Melitta  bent  still  lower  to  give  the  swing  a  stronger 
push.  This  loosened  the  gold  clasp  that  fastened  her 
dress  at  the  neck,  and  the  dainty  dazzling  shoulders 
appeared  a  moment. 

Callippides  knew  himself,  so  he  was  surprised  that 
no  flush  of  passion  had  crimsoned  his  face.  In  the 
midst  of  his  secret  agitation,  he  recognized  this  fact  as 
a  sign  that  he  was  no  longer  the  same  man. 

As  Melitta  soon  after  stopped  the  swing  and  helped 
the  child  out,  her  glance  fell  on  the  next  garden  where 
Callippides,  half  concealed  by  some  bushes,  stood  mo- 
tionless as  a  statue  in  the  shade  of  the  plane-tree. 

Callippides  was  a  tall,  distinguished-looking  man. 
His  dark  hair  and  beard  were  cut  by  Sporgilus,  the 
best  barber  in  Athens,  and  the  blood-red  scar  made  by 
the  horse's  hoof  on  the  crown  of  his  head  was  partially 
concealed  by  the  hair  which,  in  this  place,  had  grown 
somewhat  thin.  His  features  were  dark  and  stern,  but 
in  consequence  of  his  arduous  exercises  in  the  race- 
course, he  had  retained  a  bearing  which  made  him  ten 
years  younger.  Like  all  Athenians  of  noble  birth,  he 
paid  great  attention  to  his  person  and  most  frequently 
wore  a  snow-white  chiton  or  tunic  of  the  finest  Milesian 
wool,  with  a  blue  over-garment  of  Persian  kaunake,  a 
kind  of  costly  rough  woollen  fabric  imported  from 
Sardis.  Down  to  the  light  soles  which  belonged  to  his 
calling  of  sycophant  he  was,  in  short,  in  everything  an 
exquisite,  a  dandy,  but  in  such  a  way  that  he  did  not 
make  himself  ridiculous.  His  gait  showed  none  of  the 
affected  stifthess  with  which  Athenian  coxcombs  tried 


8o  PICTURES     OF    HELLAS. 

to  attract  attention,  and  he  never  carried  a  short  staff 
under  his  cloak  nor  walked  with  a  fragrant  Median 
apple  in  his  hands  when  he  appeared  out  of  doors. 

Women  have  quick  eyes.  Melitta,  with  a  single 
glance,  received  an  impression  of  his  whole  person. 
The  tall,  grave,  bearded  man  seemed  to  her  to  re- 
semble her  father  —  the  only  free  citizen  whom  in  her 
monotonous  life  in  the  women's  apartments  she  had 
had  an  opportunity  to  notice.  She  let  the  child  go  in 
first,  and  turned  her  head  again.  Melitta  was  very 
fond  of  her  father.  She  wanted  to  see  whether  she 
had  been  right  —  whether  the  man  in  the  next  garden 
resembled  him. 

At  the  young  girl's  movement  a  flood  of  joy  swept 
through  Callippides'  heart,  and  he  became  even  happier 
when  he  fancied  he  read  good-will  in  the  look  with 
which  Melitta  gazed  at  him. 

The  sycophant  was  not  spoiled  by  good-will. 

When  Melitta  had  disappeared  he  walked  towards 
the  house  as  if  in  a  dream.  At  the  sun-dial  he  found 
old  Manes  who,  bending  over  the  pin,  was  in  the  act 
of  reading  the  hour.  He  looked  intently  at  him  but 
the  slave  did  not  seem  to  have  noticed  anything. 

Callippides  went  into  the  "  treasure-chamber"  and 
took  his  seat  in  the  arm-chair.  He  imagined  that  he 
still  saw  Melitta  with  the  purple  fillet  around  her  black 
curls,  with  her  dark  eyes,  smiling  lips,  and  dazzling 
shoulders.  There  was  something  in  the  girl's  fresh 
youth  which  moved  his  inmost  soul.  He,  the  volup- 
tuary, who  was  ever  seeking  to  devise  some  new  pleas- 


^HE     SYCOPHANT.  8 1 

ure,  thought  that  the  highest  joy  he  could  fancy  would 
be  to  hold  Melitta's  hand  in  his. 

"  By  the  Graces !"  he  exclaimed,  "  she  is  a  living 
human  flower." 

Suddenly  it  became  evident  to  him  that  in  a  few 
moments,  a  far  shorter  time  than  the  water-clock  re- 
quired to  run  out,  he  had  become  an  entirely  different 
person.  A  shudder  ran  through  his  limbs  and  —  as  if 
afraid  to  hear  his  own  words,  he  murmured  softly : 

"  Callippides  no  longer  belongs  to  himself" 

When  he  again  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  the 
walls  they  seemed  to  him,  for  the  first  time,  as  they 
had  appeared  to  Manes.  He  did  not  like  the  inscrip- 
tions, there  was  something  about  them  which  disturbed 
him,  so  he  went  into  the  next  room  and  threw  himself 
on  a  couch  where  he  fell  into  deep  thought.  He  lay 
thus  a  long  time;  the  day  declined  more  and  more, 
the  short  twilight  merged  into  the  deep  shades  of  even- 
ing. When  he  roused  himself  and  looked  through  the 
open  door  the  stars  were  shining  over  the  peristyle. 

He  called  Manes  and  told  him  to  hght  the  lamp. 

As  he  rose  from  the  couch  his  glance  fell  upon  his 
foot-gear,  v/hich,  contrary  to  habit  and  custom,  he  had 
kept  on  after  having  come  in  from  the  garden.  At  the 
sight  of  the  thin  soles,  the  token  of  his  trade  of  syco- 
phant, he  shuddered. 

"  How  cold  the  wind  blows !"  he  muttered  as 
though  to  deceive  himself 

Then  he  called  again,  thrust  out  his  foot,  and  said  : 

"  Manes,  take  off  my  soles,  and  "  —  he  spoke  hur- 

6 


82  PICTURES     OF    HELLAS. 

riedly  —  "burn  them  and  all  the  others  of  the  same 
kind  I  possess." 

The  old  man  stood  as  if  he  were  petrified.  If  his 
master  had  been  a  soldier  and  had  ordered  him  to 
break  his  sword,  he  could  not  have  been  more  dumb 
with  amazement. 

"  Don't  you  hear  ?"  said  Callippides  sternly. 

Manes  knelt  before  him,  but  his  hands  trembled  so 
that  he  was  unable  to  open  the  buckles. 

"  You  are  growing  old.  Manes,"  said  Callippides 
more  gently  as  though  he  regretted  his  harshness. 

Then  he  put  his  foot  on  the  edge  of  the  couch  to 
unfasten  the  straps  himself;  but,  ere  he  had  touched 
them  with  his  hands,  started  up  and,  with  two  vigorous 
kicks,  hurled  them  into  the  farthest  comer  of  the 
chamber,  where  they  fell  on  the  ground  with  a  clapping 
noise. 

"  Did  you  hear  ?"  he  said  to  Manes,  "  the  dumb 
soles  spoke.     It  was  their  farewell." 

Callippides  then  drew  from  his  belt  a  key  with  three 
wards  which  he  gave  to  Manes,  saying : 

"  Take  it  to  Philostratus  to-morrow  morning." 

Manes  passed  from  one  surprise  to  another. 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  him  ?"  he  asked  timidly. 

"  That  I  have  no  farther  use  for  it." 

The  old  man  scarcely  believed  his  ears.  He 
clasped  his  hands,  but  dared  not  speak. 

"  What  would  you  say,  Manes,"  asked  Callippides, 
*'  if  you  should  see  me  some  day  with  a  helmet  on  my 
head  leading  a  troop  of  horsemen  ?" 


THE    SYCOPHANT.  83 

At  these  words  the  aged  face  brightened  and  the 
old  man  fixed  his  eyes  with  almost  a  father's  tender- 
ness upon  the  master  whom,  when  a  child,  he  had 
often  played  with  on  his  knee. 

"  The  day  I  see  you  leader  of  the  band  of  horse- 
men," he  exclaimed,  "  the  day  the  bridal  torches.  .  .  ." 

Manes  got  no  farther ;  at  the  last  word  Callippides 
started  up  and  covered  his  mouth  with  his  hand. 

"Silence,  old  fool!"  he  cried  sternly.  "You  are 
talking  about  things  which  don't  concern  you.  Do 
you  want  me  to  tear  your  tongue  out  of  your  mouth 
and  fling  it  to  the  dogs  ?" 

The  slave  silently  slunk  away,  trembling  from  head 
to  foot. 

Contrary  to  his  custom  Callippides,  during  the  fol- 
lowing days,  remained  at  home  and  did  not  fail  to 
spend  the  afternoon  hours  in  the  garden.  But  day 
after  day  slipped  by  without  his  having  the  smallest 
glimpse  of  Melitta.  The  door  of  the  next  house  often 
opened ;  but  it  was  only  a  female  slave  who  came  out 
to  gather  flowers,  pluck  fruits,  or  bring  in  from  the 
garden  the  stuffs  that  had  been  washed.  As  each  day 
elapsed,  Callippides  became  more  and  more  depressed. 

One  night,  as  he  sat  half  erect  on  his  couch,  unable 
to  sleep,  he  saw  through  the  open  door  a  narrow  ray  of 
light  which  fell  upon  the  flags  in  the  courtyard.  Sur- 
prised, he  rose ;  the  light  came  from  Manes'  room. 
Fearing  that  the  old  man  might  be  ill,  he  went  to  him 
at  once. 

Manes  was  sitting  working  on  a  pair  of  sandals, 


54  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

whose  Straps  were  not  in  the  best  condition.  When 
Callippides  entered,  he  was  evidently  startled  and  con- 
fused and  tried  to  hide  something  behind  his  chair. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Manes  ?"  asked  Callippides. 

"  Putting  new  straps  to  a  pair  of  old  sandals." 

"  Whose  are  they  ?" 

"  Mine." 

"And  these?"  asked  Callippides,  taking  from  behind 
the  chair  a  pair  of  little  sandals  for  a  child  seven  or 
eight  years  old,  "  are  these  yours  too  ?" 

Manes  silently  tried  to  avoid  his  master's  eye. 

Callippides  now  understood  something  of  which 
hitherto  he  had  not  thought,  and  knew  to  whom  he 
owed  the  frugal  meals  which  had  been  set  before  him 
during  the  last  few  days. 

Yet  he  said  nothing.  Callippides  was  a  man  of  few 
words. 

He  stood  still  a  moment  gazing  silently  at  the  old 
slave,  who  scarcely  knew  whether  he  might  venture  to 
continue  his  work  or  not.  Suddenly  Callippides  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  shoulder  and  said  with  a  strange  gentle- 
ness in  his  voice  : 

"Go  to  rest.  Manes;  you  have  worked  enough 
to-day." 

The  old  man  seized  his  master's  hand  and  kissed  it. 
At  that  moment  he  would  have  died  for  him. 

The  next  day  Callippides,  contrary  to  his  usual 
custom,  went  out  into  the  garden  before  noon.  Some 
presentiment  told  him  that  this  time  it  would  not  be  in 
vain.      He  had   remained  there   only  a  few  minutes 


THE    SYCOPHANT.  85 

when,  through  the  half  open  door  of  the  next  house,  he 
fancied  he  heard  a  child's  voice  utter  Melitta's  name. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  the  young  girl  came 
out,  accompanied  by  an  old  female  slave.  Taking 
from  her  hand  a  graceful  jug,  she  began  to  water  the 
rarer  flowers  which  were  planted  nearest  to  the  house. 
Then  she  searched  for  buds,  removed  the  withered 
blossoms,  and  tied  up  the  drooping  branches ;  in  short, 
she  busied  herself  a  long  time  among  the  flowers,  and 
at  every  movement  her  slender  figure  displayed  some 
fresh  girlish  charm. 

To-day  she  wore  on  her  dark  locks  a  gold  clasp 
which  fastened  a  blue  fillet  above  her  brow,  and  her 
white  garment  was  trimmed  with  a  double  border  of 
the  same  color.  It  seemed  to  Callippides  that  the 
young  girl  looked  a  little  graver,  but  even  more  beauti- 
ful than  when  he  first  saw  her. 

As  she  came  to  the  clump  of  bushes  nearest  to  the 
next  garden  she  perceived  Callippides.  The  slave,  who 
was  holding  a  red  umbrella  over  her  young  mistress' 
head,  followed  the  direction  of  her  glance,  but  had 
scarcely  caught  sight  of  the  sycophant  when  she 
dropped  the  umbrella  and  seized  the  girl's  arm  as 
though  some  danger  threatened  her. 

Mehtta  turned  in  astonishment,  and  the  slave 
hastily  uttered  a  few  words  which  made  her  mistress 
frown.  She  seemed  to  contradict  her  attendant,  who 
became  more  and  more  vehement. 

Callippides  had  sharp  ears  —  he  was  a  sycophant  — 
and  the  distance  from  the  two  speakers  to   the  spot 


86  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

where  he  stood  was  only  thirty  or  forty  paces.  First 
he  caught  one  of  the  slave's  words,  then  more,  until  at 
last  he  distinctly  heard  her  say  : 

"As  sure  as  you're  General  Myronides'  daughter, 
he  belongs  to  the  venomous  brood  whose  pathway  is 
filled  with  curses,  blood,  and  corpses.  You  can  see 
for  yourself  that  he  is  marked  by  the  wrath  of  the 
gods !     Is  not  his  shadow  blacker  than  other  men's  ?" 

As  Callippides  stood  in  the  green  dusk  under  the 
plane-tree,  with  the  white  wall  of  the  house  behind 
him,  so  dense  a  shadow  really  fell  upon  him  that,  from 
the  sunlit  spot  where  the  two  women  stood,  it  was  im- 
possible to  discern  the  colors  in  his  dress. 

Disturbed  by  the  slave's  words,  Melitta  herself 
fancied  she  saw  something  spectral  and  threatening  in 
the  tall,  dark  man.  With  a  shriek  she  dropped  the 
water-jar,  gathered  the  folds  of  her  robe  around  her, 
and  rushed  into  the  house.  By  the  terror  with  which 
she  closed  the  door  behind  her,  Callippides  understood 
that  it  had  shut  between  them  forever. 

Quietly  as  ever,  though  somewhat  paler  than  usual, 
he  went  back  to  the  house.  Sometimes  he  fancied  he 
again  heard  the  door  banged,  and  each  time  he  felt  as 
though  his  heart  would  break. 

The  lonely  and  desolate  condition,  the  seclusion 
from  intercourse  with  others  in  which  he  had  spent  his 
later  years  had  often  weighed  heavily,  nay  almost  unen- 
durably  upon  him,  yet  never  had  his  heart  been  so 
empty,  so  dead  to  all  hope,  as  now.  "  Alas !"  he 
murmured,  "  everything  might  have  been  different,  en- 


THE     SYCOPHANT.  87 

tirely  different  —  but  it  is  too  late."  He  gazed 
steadily  into  vacancy,  and  his  eyes  expressed  a  sombre 
resolve. 

Soon  after  he  had  come  in  from  the  garden  he  sat 
down  to  write,  but  twice  tore  up  what  he  had  traced 
before  he  was  satisfied.  Then  he  made  an  exact  copy 
of  it. 

"  Now  it  only  needs  the  signatures  of  the  wit- 
nesses," he  said  to  himself,  as  he  put  his  seal-ring  on 
his  finger. 

After  standing  for  some  time  absorbed  in  deep 
thought,  he  took  from  a  chest  a  flask  with  a  wicker 
basket-work  covering  called  a  lagynos.  When  he  had 
assured  himself  that  it  was  empty,  he  smelled  it  and 
was  in  the  act  of  calling  Manes  when  he  suddenly 
stopped. 

"  Why  wash  it  ?"  he  said,  looking  at  the  flask  with 
a  strange  smile.  "  It  can  have  held  nothing  worse 
than  I  intend  to  buy." 

Callippides  then  left  the  house,  and  did  not  return 
until  the  evening. 

Manes  had  scarcely  lighted  the  double-wicked 
lamp,  when  his  master  said  in  a  curt,  imperious 
tone: 

"  Bring  water,  efface  these  inscriptions,  and  wash 
the  walls  clean." 

The  old  man  would  fain  have  hugged  his  master, 
but  he  had  not  forgotten  how  badly  he  had  fared  when 
he  let  fall  a  word  about  the  hymeneal  torches.  Yet 
never   had  he  obeyed  a  command  with    greater  joy. 


88  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Still,  zealously  as  he  worked,  it  was  not  quick  enough 
for  Callippides. 

With  a  restlessness  very  unusual,  he  wandered  to 
and  fro  hurrying  the  slave  every  moment. 

At  last  the  walls  were  partially  cleaned,  but  the 
water  stood  in  great  pools  on  the  flagged  floor. 

"  Let  it  stay,"  said  Callippides  curtly,  "  it  will  soon 
sink  into  the  ground." 

Then  he  added  : 

"  Come  here.  Manes !"  and,  after  having  gazed  at 
him  with  a  long,  earnest  glance,  he  said  with  the  same 
strange  gentleness  as  on  the  evening  before. 

"  You  have  always  been  a  faithful  servant  to  me." 

Something  in  both  words  and  tone  surprised  the 
old  man. 

"  Is  the  master  going  away  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  For  a  long  time  ?" 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  Callippides  with  a  faint  smile. 

Towards  dawn  Manes  had  a  strange  dream.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  a  vast  shining  Shape  formed  of 
mist,  with  wings  on  its  cap  and  heels,  came  floating  in 
to  his  master  and  took  him  by  the  hand.  Scarcely  had 
this  happened  ere  his  master  himself  became  a  misty 
form  and  both  soared  noiselessly  away. 

The  old  man  awoke  with  a  shudder.  He  felt  a 
chill  on  his  brow  as  though  wings  were  waving  around 
him,  and  did  not  exactly  know  whether  he  was  awake 
or  dreaming. 

Seized  by  a  gloomy  foreboding,  he  rose  from  his 


THE    SYCOPHANT.  89 

couch.  To  his  terror  CalHppides'  sleeping-room  was 
empty.  The  couch  was  untouched,  the  pillow  had  not 
been  pressed,  and  an  old  over-garment  lay  carefully 
rolled  at  the  foot.  It  was  evident  that  no  one  had 
slept  there  during  the  night. 

When  he  entered  the  "treasure  chamber,"  he  felt 
greatly  relieved  at  seeing  his  master  sitting  in  the  arm- 
chair. His  head  was  resting  against  the  high  back 
and  his  eyes  were  closed.  He  was  apparently  sleep- 
ing. 

The  old  man  approached  —  a  penetrating,  dis- 
agreeable odor,  proceeding  from  a  goblet  on  the  table 
reached  him  —  the  smell  of  hemlock. 

He  now  understood  everything. 

"Dead!"  he  murmured,  "dead!"  he  repeated,  as 
though  he  could  not  believe  his  own  words. 

Motionless  and  carefully  attired  as  usual,  CalHppides 
sat  in  the  high-backed  chair  he  had  inherited.  His 
dark  hair  and  beard  were  redolent  of  perfume,  there 
was  not  a  spot  to  be  seen  on  his  light  robe,  and  shining 
rings  glittered  on  his  fingers.  The  only  thing  which 
showed  he  had  fought  his  last  battle,  was  that  his  right 
hand  was  pressed  against  his  side  as  if  in  an  attack 
of  pain,  while  the  left  hung  loosely  over  the  arm  of  the 
chair.  His  features  were  dark  and  grave,  but  neither 
darker  nor  graver  than  usual,  and  a  ray  of  the  dawning 
day  cast  a  delusive  semblance  of  life  upon  his  pallid 
cheeks. 

Directly  above  him  on  the  white  wall  were  two 
lines  of  an  imperfectly  washed  inscription. 


90  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Manes,  fixing  his  eyes  on  it,  read : 

"  Sentenced  to 

"  drink  the  hemlock.'^ 

At  the  sight  of  these  words,  which  stood  there  hke 
the  inscription  on  a  tomb,  marked  by  the  finger  of 
retribution,  tears  streamed  from  the  old  slave's  eyes. 

"  Zeus  Soter  be  merciful  to  him,"  he  murmured. 
"  He  has  sentenced  himself!" 

Directly  after  Manes  saw  a  sheet  of  papyrus  lying 
on  the  table.  Taking  it  up  with  a  trembling  hand  he 
read : 

"  Copy 

OF 

Callippides'   Last  Will. 

"  May  all  be  well !  I  hereby  make  the  following 
"  disposition  of  my  estate.  The  little  rented  dwelling 
"  in  the  Pirseeus  shall  be  sold  to  the  highest  bidder  and 
"  the  money  used  for  my  funeral  obsequies,  which  must 
"  be  worthy  of  my  birth.  The  tomb  shall  be  built  on 
"  the  road  to  Budoron,  opposite  to  the  garden  attached 
"to  General  Myronides'  country-seat,  and  the  memorial 
"  stone  is  to  be  a  plain  column  inscribed  with  the  name 
"  and  date  of  birth  and  death.     Nothing  more. 

"  I  free  my  slave  Manes  and,  as  I  have  no  relatives, 
"  I  give  him  for  his  property  my  house  in  the  Street  of 
"  the  Potters,  with  the  garden  belonging  to  it,  on  con- 
"  dition  that  he  always  takes  care  of  the  tomb. 


THE    SYCOPHANT.  9I 

"  The  papyrus  furnished  with  a  seal,  of  which  this 
"  is  a  copy,  is  deposited  with  Philon,  son  of  Sophilus. 
"  The  witnesses  are  :  Lycon,  son  of  Hegesias,  and 
"  Charicles,  son  of  Theron." 

By  the  side  of  the  papyrus  lay  a  note  in  which  was 
written  : 

"  To  Manes : 

"Conceal  the  manner  of  my  death,  that 
I  may  go  to  the  grave  unmutilated.*  Say  that  you 
found  me  dead  in  the  chair. 

In  a  box  on  the  table  is  a  ring  with  an  exquisitely- 
carved  stone,  representing  Charis  bathing  her  mistress 
Aphrodite  in  the  sacred  grove  at  Paphos.  Take  the 
ornament  to  Melitta,  General  Myronides'  daughter, 
and  say  to  her :  '  My  dead  master  Callippides,  your 
neighbor,  begs  you  to  accept  this  ring,  which  belonged 
to  his  mother.  You  can  wear  it  without  fear;  from 
the  day  he  first  saw  you  he  has  not  been  a  sycophant.' 
"  To  you,  my  faithful  Manes,  I  say :  Farewell, 
and  do  not  grieve.  It  is  better  to  have  poison  in  the 
body  than  in  the  soul." 

The  old  man  gave  free  course  to  his  tears. 

As  if  in  a  dream  he  heard  the  birds  twittering  in 
the  garden ;  the  refreshing  fragrance  of  the  dewy  ver- 
dure entered,  filling  the  room,  and  through  the   still 

*  It  was  the  custom  to  punish  suicides  by  cutting  off  the  right 
hand. 


92  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

morning  air  echoed  nearer  and  nearer  the  rumbling  of 
chariots.  Outside  was  heard  the  Achamians'  usual 
cry  in  the  streets  : 

*'  Buy  charcoal !     Buy  vinegar  !" 

The  unexpected  and  the  usual,  stillness  and  awak- 
ening traffic,  death  and  life,  blended  so  strangely  in 
this  hour  that  the  old  man  experienced  a  feeling  he 
had  never  before  known. 

Without  knowing  what  he  was  doing  he  knelt  and 
kissed  his  dead  master's  hand,  then  clasping  his  own 
he  cried  in  his  simple,  honest  fashion  : 

"  May  the  twelve  Olympians  grant  him  every  bless- 
ing !     He  was  a  kind  master." 


THE    HETAERIA. 


THE    SECOND   YEAR    OF    THE    9IST   OLYMPIAD   (415  B.C.) 


THE    HETAERIA. 


I. 


HiPYLLOS  had  not  mentioned  where  he  was  going. 
Old  Myrmex,  who  accompanied  him  with  a  blazing 
pine-torch,  did  not  rack  his  brains  to  discover,  but 
trudged  on  with  dull  indifference,  following  his  young 
master  step  by  step.  His  most  distinct  feeling  was 
that  he  was  beginning  to  be  tired.  They  had  already 
traversed  the  greater  part  of  Athens,  and  at  this  time 
—  the  year  Chabrias  was  archon  —  Athens  was  a  large 
city. 


g6  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Shortly  after  sunset  the  master  and  slave  had 
quitted  Hipyllos'  house,  just  inside  the  Acharnian  Gate, 
and  passed  through  the  length  of  Colonus,  the  most 
northern  portion  of  the  city.  Then  they  walked  by 
the  "  Big  Stones"  of  the  Acropolis  with  their  numerous 
niches  for  votive  offerings,  which  may  still  be  seen  at 
the  present  day.  From  the  Prytaneium  they  had  fol- 
lowed the  Street  of  the  Tripods,  with  its  temples  of  the 
gods  and  huge  brazen  tripods,  and  had  gone  from  the 
Odeium  down  through  the  Theatre  of  Dionysus,  over 
whose  orchestra  people  were  in  the  habit  of  making  a 
short  cut,  as  the  huge  building,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  festival  days,  stood  empty  almost  all  the  year. 
Next  they  had  followed  the  Street  of  the  Temples 
along  the  southern  edge  of  the  citadel,  where  no  fewer 
than  six  marble  temples  gleamed  through  the  twilight 
shadows  at  the  foot  of  the  dark  cliff. 

Hipyllos  had  made  this  circuit  to  consume  the  time 
until  the  lamps  were  lighted  in  the  houses.  The  mo- 
ment had  now  come,  more  and  more  points  of  light 
ghmmered  through  the  dusk. 

From  the  Street  of  the  Temples  master  and  man 
turned  into  a  narrow  alley,  which  wound  between  the 
houses,  trees,  and  garden-walls.  There  was  and  is  still  a 
marked  difference  between  the  air  in  this  quarter  and 
the  atmosphere  of  the  rest  of  Athens.  South  of  the 
Acropolis  a  refreshing  sea-breeze  usually  blows  over 
country  and  city. 

Hipyllos,  inhaling  the  damp  air  with  delight,  pur- 
sued his  walk.     He  had  a  joyous  face,  and  his  whole 


THE    HETAERIA.  97 

person  illumined  by  the  red  torch-glare  made  a  striking 
impression.  His  white  upper-garment,  adorned  with  a 
blue  border,  formed  a  picturesque  contrast  to  his  sun- 
burnt skin  and  black  locks,  and  every  movement  of  his 
well-formed  limbs  was  firm  and  steadfast,  in  harmony 
with  the  expression  of  his  face. 

Old  Myrmex  did  not  care  for  the  sea-breeze.  He 
was  suffering  from  lumbago  and,  at  the  first  puff  of  the 
damp  air,  he  took  his  torch  into  his  left  hand  and 
rubbed  his  side  with  the  right  —  an  act  in  which  he 
was  not  impeded  by  his  clothing,  which  consisted  of  a 
dark  exomis,  the  usual  garment  worn  by  slaves,  and 
which,  to  give  freedom  of  motion,  left  the  right  arm, 
shoulder,  and  side  bare. 

About  the  middle  of  the  street  the  way  led  close  by 
a  side-building,  doubtless  the  women's  apartment  of  a 
stately  house  that  apparently  belonged  to  a  wealthy 
citizen.  From  one  of  the  sparsely  scattered  fhyrides,  a 
kind  of  air-hole,  the  light  of  a  lamp  streamed  into  the 
darkness.  Hipyllos  paused.  This  light  must  have  had 
some  peculiar  charm  for  him,  he  could  not  turn  his 
eyes  from  it. 

As  if  in  the  mood  when  some  secret  joy  renders 
men  communicative  he  suddenly  patted  the  old  man 
on  the  shoulder,  saying : 

"  Myrmex,  do  you  know  whence  that  light  shines  ?" 
And,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  added  :  "  From 
the  room  occupied  by  Clytie,  the  fairest  of  all  Athe- 
nian maidens." 

7 


98  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

Myrmex  stared  at  Hipyllos  with  his  mouth  wide 
open  in  amazement. 

"  Master,  master !"  he  stammered,  "  what  have  you 
taken  into  your  head  ?" 

Hipyllos  did  not  hear.  But  Myrmex  feared  his 
master  was  in  the  act  of  committing  some  hasty  deed, 
and  he  knew  that  when  a  citizen  was  guilty  of  a  crime, 
but  denied  his  offence,  it  was  ordained  that  he  should 
have  one  of  his  slaves  tortured.  The  law  was  based 
on  the  belief  that  the  slave  would  testify  against  his 
master  and,  if  he  did  not,  the  master's  innocence  was 
proved. 

As  this  did  not  seem  to  be  one  of  the  women  who 
led  a  dissolute  life,  but  a  citizen's  daughter,  a  closely- 
guarded  maiden,  Myrmex  in  imagination  already  felt 
himself  stretched  on  the  rack,  whipped  with  brushes 
and  scourges,  tortured  with  thumb-screws,  laden  with 
tile-stones  on  his  stomach,  and  half-choked  by  vinegar 
in  both  nostrils.     So  he  repeated  in  a  still  louder  tone. 

"  Master,  master,  what  have  you  taken  into  your 
head  ?" 

Hipyllos  picked  up  a  pebble,  but  just  as  he  was 
flinging  it  against  the  wall,  as  though  in  obedience  to  a 
preconcerted  signal,  he  saw  two  shadows  on  the  red 
curtain  inside  of  the  loop-hole. 

"  Aiboi I  a  piece  of  ill-luck  !"  he  muttered,  dropping 
the  pebble,  "  she  isn't  alone." 

Then  kissing  his  hand  to  the  bright  ray  of  light,  he 
passed  on  half  reluctantly,  farther  in  the  direction  of 
the  Cerameicus,  the  northwestern  part  of  the  city. 


THE    HETAERIA. 


99 


Myrmex  did  not  think  much ;  but  when  an  idea 
once  entered  his  brain  he  did  not  let  it  go  easily,  and 
now  asked  for  the  third  time  : 

"  Master,  master,  what  have  you  taken  into  your 
head  ?" 

This  time  Hipyllos  heard  him.  He  cast  a  glance 
at  his  companion  and,  seeing  his  troubled  face,  under- 
stood the  connection  of  ideas  and  burst  into  a  loud 
laugh. 

"  Poor  Myrmex,"  he  said,  pinching  the  old  man's 
cheeks,  "  are  you  afraid  of  the  thumb-screws  ?  Pooh ! 
You'll  escape !  This  is  no  matter  of  life  and  death, 
and  a  citizen  can  be  compelled  to  have  a  slave  tor- 
tured only  in  an  affair  of  life  and  death.  .  .  .  Have 
you  heard,"  he  continued,  mischievously,  the  story  of 
Killikon  from  Miletus  ?  He  betrayed  his  native  place 
to  the  citizens  of  Priene,  and  when  his  friends,  during 
the  preparations,  asked  what  he  had  in  view,  con- 
'stantly  replied:  'Nothing  but  good.'  Well  then! 
when  you  ask  what  I  have  taken  into  my  head  I  can, 
with  still  better  reason,  answer :  '  Nothing  but  good.' 
For  the  maiden  belongs  to  a  highly-respected  family, 
and  I  intend  that  she  shall  become  my  wife." 


II. 


Hipyllos  walked  on  silently  for  some  time,  then 
suddenly  exclaimed : 

"  Myrmex,    you  don't   know  —  no  words   can    tell 


lOO  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

how  pretty  she  is.  .  .  .  It's  a  Uttle  more  than  a  month 
since  I  first  saw  her.  She  was  returning  home  fi"om 
the  temple  of  Demeter,  accompanied  by  her  mother 
and  several  slaves.  The  wind  raised  her  veil  and  re- 
vealed a  face  which,  crimsoned  with  blushes  at  the 
notice  she  was  attracting,  was  the  loveliest  I  had  ever 
seen.  The  young  girl  was  tall  and  wore  a  snow-white 
robe  with  a  broad  violet-blue  border;  her  shining 
black  hair  was  drawn  high  above  her  neck,  and  over 
her  veil  a  gold  clasp  ornamented  with  a  large  blue 
stone  glittered  on  her  brow.  Her  silver-wrought 
sandal-straps  fitted  her  small  feet  so  trimly,  that  even 
men  usually  blind  to  the  secrets  of  beauty  uttered  a 
murmur  of  admiration.  Whenever  the  breeze-  tight- 
ened her  garments,  making  her  movements  more 
visible,  her  bearing  showed  a  reserve  and  modesty  im- 
possible to  describe  in  words  and,  as  she  passed,  I 
seemed  to  feel  an  atmosphere  of  freshness  mingled 
with  the  faint  fragrance  of  some  costly  ointment.  .  .  . 
Never  has  any  woman  so  bewitched  me !  At  night  I 
dreamed  of  her  dazzlingly  white  neck  and  soft  black 
hair  —  heavenly  powers,  how  pretty  she  is !  But  you 
don't  understand  me,  Myrmex;  I  might  as  well  con- 
fide in  the  trees  and  stones  by  the  wayside.  .  .  .  All 
the  young  men  she  met  turned  —  no  one  Avas  content 
with  merely  seeing  her  pass.  Here,  where  the  girls 
spend  their  days  in  the  narrow  limits  of  the  women's 
apartment,  it  isn't  three  times  in  a  man's  life  that  he 
meets  such  a  maiden  on  the  highway. 

"As  she  and   her  mother  approached   the  house 


THE    HETAERIA.  lOI 

where  we  just  saw  the  Hght  shining,  one  of  the  slaves 
ran  into  the  Phalerian  street  to  knock  at  the  door,  and 
I  now  knew  who  the  young  girl  was.  The  mansion 
belonged  to  the  architect  Xenocles,  and  the  maiden 
Avas  doubtless  his  daughter  Clytie,  whose  beauty  I  had 
often  heard  praised.  At  the  comer  of  the  wall  the 
wind  blew  stronger,  so  that  the  women  were  obliged  to 
struggle  against  it.  Suddenly  the  young  girl's  veil  was 
loosened  and  flew  away  on  the  breeze.  Uttering  a 
loud  shriek,  she  stopped  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands.  Rushing  on  in  advance  of  the  rest  after  the 
veil,  which  was  whirling  around  in  the  air,  I  caught  it 
as  it  fell  and  hung  on  a  slender  branch.  As  I  ap- 
proached the  young  girl,  who  had  let  her  hands  fall 
and  stood  blushing  crimson,  with  eyes  bent  on  the 
ground,  she  looked  so  bewitchingly  beautiful  that,  fairly 
beside  myself,  I  grasped  the  hand  with  which  she  took 
the  veil,  exclaiming : 

"  '  Pretty  Clytie,  raise  your  eyes  to  mine ;  for  here, 
in  your  mother's  presence,  I  swear  that  you  and  no  one 
else  shall  become  my  wife.' 

"  The  young  girl  turned  pale  and  snatched  her 
hand  from  my  clasp,  but  she  did  what  I  asked.  She 
raised  her  large  dark  eyes  and  fixed  them  on  mine  —  it 
seemed  to  me  not  with  dislike. 

"  The  mother,  however,  was  very  angry  and  thrust 
me  away,  saying : 

"  '  Who  are  you.  Youth,  who  dares  to  speak  so 
boldly    to    a   modest   maiden  ?     Clytie  —  your  wife  ! 


I02  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

May  all  the  gods  forbid !  Know  that  her  father  has 
promised  her  to  another.  .  .  .' 

"  '  By  Zeus  !'  I  interrupted,  '  that  other  shall  yield,, 
were  he  the  king  of  Persia  himself.'  " 

Myrmex  looked  up  at  his  master  and  laughed  in 
his  beard  at  his  audacity. 

"  The  next  morning,"  Hipyllos  continued,  "  on  the 
walls,  the  bark  of  the  trees,  and  the  stones  along  the 
roadside  were  the  words  written  by  different  hands : 

'  C lytic  is  beautiful.     No  one 
is  lovelier  than  Clytie. ' 

"  I  alone  did  not  write ;  but,  at  the  hour  that 
everybody  was  going  to  market,  I  rode  my  black  Sam- 
phora  steed  through  the  narrow  lane.  It  was  very 
rare  to  hear  the  sound  of  hoofs  there  and,  as  I  had  an- 
ticipated, the  pretty  maid  appeared  at  the  peep-hole. 
Her  room  was  where  I  had  expected.  She  hastily 
drew  back,  but  I  saw  by  her  glance  that  she  had 
recognized  me.  The  next  day  I  again  rode  by.  She 
did  not  vanish  so  quickly ;  but  I  didn't  speak  to  her, 
for  I  did  not  know  whether  she  was  alone.  The  last 
time  I  rode  through  the  street  I  passed  close  by  the 
house  and  laid  a  laurel-blossom  in  the  loop-hole ; 
when  I  came  back  it  had  been  exchanged  for  a  nar- 
cissus flower,  which  lay  where  it  could  be  easily  taken. 
I  then  sent  Manidoros  —  whom  you  know:  the  bold- 
est and  most  cunning  of  my  slaves  —  to  Phalerian 
street.     He  speedily  ingratiated  himself  with  Doris,  the 


THE    HETAERIA.  IO3 

youngest  of  Xenocles'  female  slaves,  and  how  happy  I 
was  when  one  afternoon  he  came  home  and  said  : 

"  '  Everything  has  happened  as  you  wish.  Doris 
told  me  that  her  young  mistress  has  seemed  wholly 
unlike  herself  ever  since  she  saw  you.  She  weeps, 
dreams,  and  murmurs  your  name.  But  the  man  to 
whom  her  father  has  promised  her  —  he  is  a  great 
orator  and  writer  of  tragedies  —  she  hates  worse  than 
death.  Doris  declares  you  have  used  some  spell,  and 
that  the  girl  is  bewitched.'  " 

Old  Myrmex  shook  his  head. 

"  May  all  this  give  you  happiness  I"  he  murmured. 


III. 


The  master  and  slave  continued  their  way  towards 
the  Cerameicus. 

The  district  through  which  they  were  walking  was 
the  most  rugged  part  of  Athens,  and  the  eye  every- 
where met  the  proud  outlines  of  steep  mountains.  A 
few  hundred  paces  on  the  right  towered  the  Acropolis; 
a  little  farther  away  at  the  left  lay  the  Museium,  and 
five  hundred  paces  in  front  the  broad  Pnyx  and  steep 
Areopagus  rose  into  the  air.  Most  of  these  heights 
were  considerable  cliffs  and  the  two  nearest,  the 
Acropolis  and  the  Museium,  towered  hundreds  of  ells 
above  the  stony  ground  where  the  road  lay. 

It  was  a  bright,  clear  evening  in  the  month  Boe- 
dromion.     The  wind  was  dying  away  ;    but  every  time 


I04  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

a  faint  breeze  swept  by  it  bore  a  peculiar  spicy  odor 
from  the  wild  thyme  that  grew  on  Mt.  Hymettus. 
The  crescent  moon  was  high  in  the  heavens.  The 
Acropolis,  with  the  temple  on  its  summit,  appeared 
like  a  huge,  shadowy  mass,  against  which  the  greyish 
flanks  of  the  Museium  lay  bathed  in  moonlight,  so  that 
one  could  count  the  little  white  houses. 

Suddenly  from  the  distance  a  loud  shriek  of  pain 
echoed  through  the  evening  stillness  and  repose.  A 
man's  deep  voice  moaned  as  if  some  one  were  suffer- 
ing a  torturing  death-agony.  More  than  twenty  times 
the:  Oi  moi /  01  moi .'  (Woe  is  me!  Woe  is  me!) 
was  repeated.  Every  syllable,  every  intonation  was 
borne  through  the  soft  air  with  peculiar  distinctness. 
A  little  later  the  sound  became  fainter  till  at  last  it 
died  away  in  a  dull,  breathless  silence. 

Hipyllos  started,  though  he  had  heard  piteous 
wails  in  this  place  before. 

The  cries  came  from  a  part  of  the  height  where 
there  were  no  houses.  The  interior  of  the  cliff  was 
doubtless  inhabited,  for  about  twenty  yards  above  the 
place  where  the  road  wound  light  shone  through 
twenty  or  thirty  small  holes  in  the  mass  of  rock. 
These  holes,  ranged  in  two  rows,  may  be  seen  at  the 
present  day,  and  inside  of  them  lay  —  and  still  remain 

—  some  ancient  cliff-chambers,  whose  origin  mocks 
human  speculation,  since  even  that  period  —  nearly 
twenty-three  centuries  ago  —  possessed  no  knowledge  of 
whose  hands  had  formed  them  or  —  if  they  were  tombs 

—  whose  bones  had  mouldered  there.     At  that  time 


THE    HETAERIA.  I05 

these  rooms  were  used  for  prisons,  and  many  a  criminal 
sentenced  to  death  was  here  —  where  no  escape  was 
possible  —  compelled  to  drain  the  poisoned  cup. 

Hearing  the  wails  reminded  Hipyllos  that  "the 
eleven  "  were  in  the  habit  of  going  at  sundown  to  the 
prison  to  loose  the  chains  of  the  condemned  criminal 
and  inform  him  that  his  last  hour  had  come.  The 
hapless  man  then  took  a  bath,  and  was  afterwards 
compelled  to  drink  a  goblet  of  hemlock  juice  and  pace 
up  and  down  the  narrow  room  until  his  limbs  grew 
cold  under  him.  Then  he  was  obliged  to  lie  down 
on  the  couch,  cover  his  face,  and  await  death.  It  was 
during  this  torturing  expectation  that  even  the  strong- 
est man  uttered  lamentations. 

Whoever  knew  this  fact  could  understand  the  cause 
when,  as  on  this  evening,  shrieks  of  anguish  echoed 
from  the  dark  stone  chambers.* 

Even  Myrmex  awoke  from  his  indifference  and  spit 
three  times  on  his  breast  to  avert  misfortune. 

"  Do  as  I  do,"  he  said  to  his  master,  "  keep  ill-luck 
away." 

Hipyllos  quickened  his  pace. 

"  I  fear  nothing  for  myself,"  he  replied  "  and  I 
cannot  aid  the  doomed  man." 


*  Numerous  subterranean  rooms  are  found  in  the  southwestern 
quarter  of  Athens,  the  ancient  clift  city,  which  is  now  almost  unin- 
habited. A  certain  part  of  the  eastern  base  of  the  Museium  contains 
three  entrances,  the  central  one  somewhat  dilapidated,  that  lead  to 
two  rooms  10 — 11  feet  in  length  and  a  well-like  air-passage  con- 
nected with  lower  corridors.  These  cliff-chambers  now  bear  the 
name  of  he  fy lake  tii  Socnitiis,  Socrates'  dungeon,  and  are  marked 
as  such  by  oral  tradition. 


Io6  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

His  features  at  this  moment  wore  a  serious  expres- 
sion which  showed  that,  spite  of  his  youth,  he  had  seen 
and  experienced  many  things. 


IV. 


HiPYLLOs'  father,  Chaeretades,  one  of  the  guar- 
dians of  orphan  children,  was  already  advanced  in  life 
when  he  lost  his  wife,  Hipyllos'  mother.  After  the 
short  period  of  mourning,  thirty  days,  he  married  a 
young  widow  named  Cleobule,  famed  for  her  beauty, 
but  about  whom  nothing  good  was  said  in  other 
respects.  Scarcely  six  months  after,  rumor  asserted 
that  she  was  carrying  on  an  intrigue  with  a  young 
Carystian  who  lived  in  the  house. 

The  report  reached  Hipyllos'  ears  through  the 
slaves  and,  stirred  to  his  inmost  soul,  he  taxed  Cleo- 
bule with  her  infamy,  but  she  called  all  the  gods  to 
witness  that  she  was  unjustly  suspected,  and  looked  so 
pathetic  and  beautiful  in  her  despairing  grief  that 
Hipyllos  did  not  know  what  to  believe.  But,  after  the 
Carystian  had  left  the  house,  the  caresses  which,  as  his 
step-mother,  she  could  venture  to  bestow  upon  her 
husband's  son,  grew  warmer  than  was  seemly  and 
when,  at  the  great  Panathenaic  festival,  he  returned 
from  the  procession  clad  in  his  holiday  robe  with  a 
garland  on  his  hair,  she  ran  to  meet  him,  embraced 
him,  and  called  him  her  young  Hippolytus,  her  young 


THE    HETAERIA.  I07 

Theseus.  He  thrust  her  away  so  violently  that  she 
fell  on  the  tiled  pavement  of  the  peristyle,  and  from 
that  hour  Cleobule  pursued  him  with  the  bitterest 
hatred.  As  he  stood  alone  —  Chaeretades  was  com- 
pletely in  her  power  —  this  gradually  developed  in  his 
nature  a  premature  degree  of  firmness  and  resolution. 
Nevertheless,  he  was  obliged  to  submit  to  many  things. 
Cleobule  finally  alleged  that  he  associated  with  disso- 
lute revellers,  and  persuaded  her  husband  to  send  him 
to  the  fleet  of  twenty  ships  with  which  Phormion,  since 
the  second  year  of  the  war,  had  guarded  the  mouth  of 
the  Corinthian  Gulf. 

Hipyllos  found  the  fleet  lying  off  Antirrhium,  oppo- 
site to  the  Peloponnesian  galleys.  It  seemed  strange 
to  suddenly  find  himself  so  near  the  enemy  that  he 
could  hear  the  Spartan  war-songs  and  see  their  spears 
and  swords  ghtter  in  the  sunlight.  Aboard  young  and 
old  were  confident  of  victory,  for  they  had  recently  de- 
feated a  Corinthian  fleet  twice  as  large  as  their  own. 

The  battle  was  not  long  delayed. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  Peloponnesians  rowed 
into  the  bay  opposite  Naupactus,  a  city  belonging  to 
the  allies  of  Athens.  Phormion  was  hurrying  after  to 
defend  the  place,  when  the  enemy  suddenly  made  a 
circuit  by  which  they  intercepted  and  captured  his  last 
nine  ships.  Hipyllos  was  on  the  eighth  and,  frantic  at 
falling  into  the  hands  of  the  foe,  he  shouted  to  a  party 
of  Messenians  from  Naupactus  whom  he  saw  on  shore: 

"  Messenians !  Will  you  calmly  see  ships  that  were 
hastening   to  the  aid  of  your  city,   captured   by   the 


lo8  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

enemy  ?     Help  us  save  this  one  galley.     When  we  are 
once  free,  we  will  speedily  rescue  the  others." 

The  men  on  land  consulted  together  a  moment, 
then  they  waded  out  into  the  sea  and  assisted  their 
allies.  But  scarcely  was  the  ship  freed,  when  it  rowed 
to  the  next,  and  when  two  were  rescued  they  easily 
succeeded  in  recapturing  the  others,  so  that  the  Pelo- 
ponnesians  only  kept  a  single  one  of  the  Athenian  gal- 
leys. Meantime  Phormion  had  rowed  farther  on  with 
the  remainder  of  the  fleet,  but,  perceiving  that  the  Pelo- 
ponnesians  kept  no  order,  he  attacked  and  routed 
them,  capturing  six  ships.  The  Athenians  raised  the 
sign  of  victory,  jeering  at  the  Peloponnesians  for  doing  - 
the  same. 

Hipyllos  was  universally  praised ;  for  he  had  not 
only  summoned  the  Messenians  to  the  rescue,  but  had 
fought  bravely  and  killed  a  brother  of  Lycophron,  one 
of  the  commanders  of  the  hostile  fleet. 

On  his  return  to  Athens  Hipyllos  found  his  father 
on  a  sick-bed.  Shame  for  Cleobule's  misconduct, 
which  at  last  could  no  longer  be  concealed,  affected 
the  old  man  like  a  slow  poison. 

Hipyllos'  valor  in  the  naval  battle  at  Rhium  was 
his  last  joy.  The  very  day  that  he  had  listened  to  the 
account  of  it  from  one  of  the  officers  of  the  fleet  he 
breathed  his  last,  holding  his  son's  hand  in  his  own. 
Hipyllos  mourned  sincerely  for  his  father.  Cleobule 
was  more  richly  dowered  by  the  dead  man's  will  than 
she  had  any  right  to  expect,  but  was  compelled  to  in- 


THE    HETAERIA.  IO9 

stantly  quit  the  hearth  on  which  she  had  brought  dis- 
grace. 

At  the  time  we  make  Hipyllos'  acquaintance  he 
was  in  independent  possession  of  a  fine  house,  numer- 
ous slaves,  and  a  fortune  of  more  than  thirty  talents.* 
The  firmness  he  had  acquired  in  the  conflict  with  his 
wicked  stepmother  now  served  him  in  good  stead. 
Having  early  learned  to  govern  himself,  he  was  wiser 
than  most  of  the  men  of  his  own  age  and  did  not 
squander  his  property.  When  reproached  for  not 
keeping  open  house  for  his  friends  and  sending  a  team 
of  four  horses  to  the  games,  he  shook  his  head  and  an- 
swered : 

"  Why  should  I  waste  my  inheritance  ?  Some  day 
Athens  will  knock  at  my  door,  saying :  "  Give  me  a 
ship  for  the  fleet  or  a  chorus  for  the  theatre  —  then 
will  be  the  time  to  be  open-handed." 


V. 


Hipyllos  and  Myrmex  had  now  reached  the 
closely-built  Cerameicus.  But  even  the  great  market 
which,  half  steeped  in  moonlight,  half  veiled  in  deep 
shadow,  lay  outspread  before  them  with  its  temples, 
arcades,  booths,  altars,  hermae,  and  statues  —  even 
here  there  was  little  movement. 

Most  of  the  people  had  long  since  returned  from 
the  gymnasia,  freedmen  and  slaves  had  performed  the 

*  An  Attic  talent  was  equal  to  about  eleven  hundred  dollars. 


no  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

duties  of  the  day,  and  after  sunset  children  were  not 
permitted  to  play  outside  of  the  doors  of  the  houses. 

Yet  life  was  not  wholly  silent.  Laughter  and  song 
echoed  from  the  wine-shops,  and  the  heavy  grating  of 
the  stone-saws  was  heard  from  many  a  sculptor's ; 
for  in  those  days  sculptors  had  so  much  to  do  that 
their  slaves  were  often  obliged  to  work  in  the  evening 
and  part  of  the  night.  Ever  and  anon  the  hooting  of 
owls  sounded  from  their  countless  hidden  holes  in  the 
cliffs  and,  as  usual  in  the  autumn,  there  was  heard,  like 
voices  from  another  world,  the  wailing  notes  of  in- 
visible birds  of  passage  calling  to  each  other  in  the 
night  as  they  flew  at  a  dizzy  height  above  the  city. 

Hipyllos  turned  into  a  side  street,  which  led  from 
the  superb  street  extending  from  the  Dipylum  Gate  to 
a  long  hill  in  the  Melitan  quarter.  Here  he  told 
Myrmex  to  extinguish  the  torch;  then  after  looking 
around  him  and  listening,  till  he  thought  himself  sure 
that  no  one  was  following,  he  directed  his  steps 
towards  a  solitary  house  at  the  foot  of  the  height 
which,  seen  in  the  moonlight,  presented  a  peculiar 
aspect. 

It  had  a  hyperoon  or  upper  story  which  extended 
only  over  part  of  the  building  and  was  reached  by  a 
staircase  on  the  outside.  It  was  an  old-fashioned,  but 
very  convenient  style  of  architecture,  especially  when 
this  upper  story  was  used  for  guest  rooms.  In  those 
days,  when  taverns  were  almost  unknown,  nearly  every 
house  annually  received  visits  from  distant  guests  who, 
on  the  great  festivals,  came  to  Athens  to  attend  the 


THE    HETAERIA.  Ill 

processions  and  torch-races,  or  the  performances  in  the 
Theatre  of  Dionysus,  Both  stories  were  so  low  that  a 
man,  by  standing  on  another's  shoulders,  could  have 
reached  the  roof  with  a  staff.  Nevertheless,  the  house 
had  a  certain  air  of  distinction  from  being  enthroned 
on  a  huge  limestone  rock,  in  whose  crumbling  sides 
ten  or  twelve  steps  were  hewn. 

As  Hipyllos  and  his  companion  went  towards  the 
dwelling  there  was  a  rustHng  on  the  outside  staircase, 
and  the  figure  of  a  boy  with  closely-cropped  hair  sud- 
denly appeared  outlined  against  the  grey  evening  sky 
—  doubtless  a  young  slave  stationed  to  keep  watch. 
At  the  sight  of  .the  approaching  forms  he  began  to  sing 
at  the  top  of  his  voice,  apparently  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  the  inmates  of  the  house,  the  beginning  of  the 
old  Harmodius  chorus  : 

"  Never  has  Athens  possessed  such  a  man, 
Never  did  citizen  so  serve  the  city.  ..." 

Then  he  suddenly  stopped  and,  in  the  stillness, 
which  seemed  doubly  as  profound  as  before,  a  dog  was 
heard  barking  within  the  dwelling.  Hipyllos  went  up 
to  the  door  of  the  house  and  signed  to  Myrmex  to 
knock  with  the  copper  ring.  Scarcely  had  the  heavy 
blow  fallen,  when  a  frantic  deafening  barking  was 
heard,  interrupted  by  a  short  howl  as  though  the  dog 
had  been  silenced  by  a  kick.  A  heavy  step  ap- 
proached inside  and  a  rough  voice  asked  : 

"  Who  knocks  so  late  ?" 


112  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Hipyllos  thrust  Myrmex  aside  and,  while  he  men- 
tioned his  master's  name,  he  himself  put  his  lips  to  the 
door  and  replied  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  Zeus  Philios  and  Nike." 

This  was  evidently  a  preconcerted  watch-word,  for 
the  door  instantly  opened.  The  door-keeper,  a  big, 
strong  slave,  with  dark-brown  hair  and  beard,  raised 
the  smoking  lamp  aloft  and,  recognizing  Hipyllos,  said 
in  a  mysterious  tone :  "  Xenocles  and  Acestor  have 
come."  Then  he  led  him  across  a  courtyard  only  five 
or  six  paces  wide  to  a  room  from  which  echoed  loud 
voices  and  laughter. 


VI. 


Hipyllos  raised  the  curtain  hanging  over  the  door 
and  entered  a  small,  low  chamber,  hghted  by  a  lamp 
with  two  wicks  placed  on  a  high  bronze  pedestal. 
The  rest  of  the  furniture  consisted  of  four  couches  and 
a  table  covered  with  goblets,  wreaths,  fillets  for  the 
hair,  and  alabaster  phials  of  perfume  with  necks  sa 
narrow  that  the  ecious  contents  could  only  ooze  out 
drop  by  drop. 

In  this  room  were  three  men.  Two  reclined  on 
the  same  couch,  half  resting  against  each  other,  the 
third  stood  before  them  with  folded  arms,  talking  to 
the  pair.  One  of  the  couple  on  the  couch  was  a 
small,  white-haired,  white-robed  man,  with  a  pair  of 
strangely  brilliant  eyes,  the  other  was  a  stately  person- 


THE    HETAERIA.  II3 

age  with  long  black  locks  and  rings  on  his  fingers,  clad 
in  a  showy  yellow  robe.  The  one  who  stood  before 
them  was  a  large,  stout  bald  man,  with  a  weatherrbeaten 
face  and  a  grey  beard,  very  plainly  dressed  in  a  grey 
chiton,  but  there  was  something  in  his  bearing  which 
attracted  attention.  He  carried  his  head  high,  and  his 
whole  outer  man  bore  the  impress  of  unwavering  self- 
confidence  and  unbending  pride.  He  was  evidently  a 
man  of  action,  and  had  more  than  once  held  command 
when  the  point  in  question  was  life  and  death.  His 
manner  clearly  showed  that  he  was  host  and  the  others 
were  his  guests. 

When  Hipyllos  entered  he  advanced  several  steps 
to  meet  him,  patted  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  said  in  a 
curt,  loud  tone :  "  I  like  a  youth  who  comes  at  the 
right  hour  —  spite  of  chariot-races,  dice,  women,  and 
wine.  By  Zeus,  when  I  was  young — I  always  came 
late." 

Thuphrastos  —  this  was  the  speaker's  name  —  had 
formerly  been  a  captain  of  horsemen  and  was  known 
by  the  name  of  Codon,  the  barker.  From  asthma  or 
habit,  he  rarely  uttered  more  than  five  or  six  words  at 
a  time,  and  so  abruptly  that  his  speech  really  bore 
some  resemblance  to  a  dog's  barking. 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !"  chimed  in  the  little  white-haired 
man.  "  And  I  was  often  outside  the  house  till  late  into 
the  night.  But,  though  my  father  was  only  a  poor 
miller,  he  watched  his  household  strictly  enough.  For 
a  long  time  I  told  our  old  slave-woman  to  put  a  pair 
of  dusty  sandals  outside  of  my  door,  so  that  he  should 


114  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

think  I  was  at  home.  One  night,  however,  he  found 
the  chamber  empty,  so  that  trick  was  over.  Ah,  I  was 
a  young  fellow  then  —  it  seems  so  short  a  time  ago  — 
yet  now  I  am  old." 

Hipyllos  greeted  the  speaker  with  marked  respect. 
He  was  the  architect  Xenocles,  the  lovely  Clytie's 
father. 

"Old!"  repeated  the  man  in  the  yellow  robe  — 
the  orator  and  tragedian  Acestor  — "  old,  don't  say 
that !  And,  glancing  at  the  others,  he  added  "  Spite 
of  his  white  hair,  Xenocles  is  the  most  active  man 
among  us.  Like  the  swan,  the  bird  of  Phoebus  Apollo 
—  he  has  no  age." 

"  Hm,"  muttered  Thuphrastos  tartly,  "  don't  listen 
to  him.  Orators  are  cunning  flatterers.  Old  friend," 
he  continued,  laying  his  hand  on  Xenocles'  shoulder, 
"  we  both  know  better.  Age  is  a  sickness  of  the  whole 
body.  We  can  —  at  a  hundred  paces  —  distinguish  a 
JCoJ>pa-sta.\\ion  from  an  animal  destined  for  sacrifice; 
we  can,  if  necessary,  chew  our  barley  bread,  but  —  the 
girls  turn  their  backs  upon  us." 

Hipyllos  exchanged  a  cold  greeting  with  the  stately 
Acestor,  Clytie's  acknowledged  suitor. 

The  latter  scarcely  seemed  to  notice  the  young 
man;  for  Hipyllos  was  not  known  by  many,  while 
every  child  recognized  the  orator  Acestor.  He  well 
knew  what  pleased  the  multitude,  and  talked  with 
equal  ease  and  fluency  about  campaigns,  legal  cases, 
art,  the  working  of  mines,  and  the  cultivation  of  vine- 
yards.    He  was   indebted   for  what   he   had  learned 


THE    HETAERIA. 


115 


solely  and  entirely  to  his  excellent  memory  —  he  was 
far  from  rich  enough  to  own  a  library.  Books  were  ex- 
traordinarily expensive.  Three  small  treatises  by  Phil- 
olaos,  the  Pythagorean  philosopher,  cost  no  minae.* 

Whether  from  lack  of  will  or  lack  of  conviction, 
Acestor  was  in  one  respect  an  incapable  orator.  He 
could  never  control  an  assembly  that  was  unfavorable 
to  him.  Signs  of  disapproval  from  the  majority  com- 
pletely upset  him,  clouded  his  brain,  and  made  him 
contradict  himself  Yet  he  was  able  to  sway  an  audi- 
ence as  he  pleased  when  sure  of  having  his  hearers 
with  him.  He  seemed  created  to  delude  credulous 
folk ;  thousands  on  thousands  had  applauded  him,  and 
many  thought  that,  as  orator  and  debater,  he  surpassed 
Antiphon  the  Rhamnusian,  and  as  a  tragedian  he  de- 
served to  rank  by  the  side  of  the  great  Pratinas.  The 
more  sagacious,  on  the  other  hand,  held  a  totally 
different  opinion ;  they  said  that  he  "  puffed  himself 
up  till  the  city  was  too  small  for  him,"  thought  his 
voice  shrill  and  his  statements  untrustworthy  and  as  to 
liis  tragedy  they  remarked  with  old  Cratinus  that  he 
"  ought  to  be  flogged  until  he  learned  to  write  more 
briefly." 

His  worst  opponents  went  still  farther.  They 
openly  called  him  Carian  or  Phrygian,  nay  even  gave 
him  the  slave-name  of  Sacas  —  all  to  intimate  that 
they  did  not  consider  him  a  native  Athenian,  but  a 
foreigner  who  had  smuggled  himself  into  the  list  of 
citizens.     The  punishment  for  this  imposition  was  very 

*  About  1800  dollars. 


Il6  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

severe,  and  consisted  of  having  the  hair  clipped  and 
being  enslaved.  Yet  nothing  was  more  common  than 
for  foreigners,  nay,  even  fugitive  slaves,  to  bribe  the 
recording  clerks  and  be  entered  in  the  register  of  citi- 
zens. A  revision  of  this  register  had  led  to  the  per- 
plexing, almost  incredible  discovery,  that  no  fewer  than 
4,760  persons  had  insinuated  themselves  among  14,240 
native  citizens. 

Hipyllos  had  not  yet  taken  his  seat  when  the  slave- 
boy's  resonant  voice  was  again  heard  outside.  The 
blow  of  the  knocker  on  the  door  echoed  through  the 
house,  and  the  dog  in  the  outer  hall  snuffed  but,  re- 
membering the  kick,  contented  itself  with  growling. 
Shortly  after  a  peculiarly  firm  step  echoed  across  the 
peristyle. 

"  Hush  !"  exclaimed  little  Xenocles.  "What  a 
step.  If  Heracles  himself  was  approaching,  it  could 
not  sound  different.     I'll  wager  that  is  Lamon." 


VII. 

The  door-curtain  was  drawn  aside  admitting  a 
broad-shouldered  man  of  middle  height,  with  muscular 
limbs,  sunburnt  skin,  short  neck,  curling  locks,  and 
thick  beard.  He  wore  a  purple  fillet  around  his  hair  and 
was  clad  in  a  robe  of  dazzling  whiteness.  This  was 
Lamon,  famed  for  his  remarkable  strength,  who  in  the 
88th  Olympiad  would  have  won  the  prize  for  wrestling, 
had  he  not  unintentionally  crushed  to  death  his  oppo- 


THE    HETAERIA.  II7 

nent,  a  Heracleotian  athlete.  Lamon  was  a  fuller  by 
trade.  In  those  days,  when  the  white  robe  was  com- 
monly worn,  the  business  was  a  very  general  and  very 
profitable  occupation,  since  the  fine  woollen  stuff,  every 
time  it  was  to  be  cleansed  from  stains  and  soils,  had  to 
be  entrusted  to  the  fuller  where,  among  other  processes, 
it  was  subjected  to  a  skilful  bleaching.  Lamon  was 
therefore  regarded,  certainly  with  good  reason,  as  a 
very  well-to-do  citizen. 

There  was  silent  admiration,  mingled  with  a  touch 
of  submission,  in  the  greeting  of  all.  At  that  time 
strength  was  a  power  to  which  every  one  bowed. 
Thuphrastos  alone  showed  no  special  reverence.  This 
man,  who  belonged  to  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
families  in  Athens,  had  early  given  numerous  proofs  of 
intelligence  and  courage.  One  day,  during  the  expe- 
dition against  rebellious  Megara,  he  was  separated 
from  the  heavily  armed  troops  by  a  dense  fog  and  very 
hard  pressed  by  the  foe.  At  night  he  ordered  each  of 
his  men  to  collect  two  beds  of  leaves,  and  in  the  early 
dawn  he  retreated.  The  Megarians  pursued,  counted 
the  heaps  of  leaves,  and  believing  the  Attic  horsemen 
to  be  twice  as  numerous  as  they  really  were,  did  not 
dare  to  attack  them,  but  held  a  council.  Meantime 
Pericles  came  up  with  his  heavily  armed  troops  and 
the  Megarians  were  surrounded,  which  ended  the  cam- 
paign. 

But  Thuphrastos  was  conscious  of  his  distinction. 
He  had  a  peculiar  way  of  using  his  eyes,  lowering  them 
slowly  as  though  measuring  the  person  with  whom  he 


Il8  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

was  conversing  from  head  to  foot.  Lamon  was  thus 
inspected,  after  which  he  greeted  him,  with  a  certain 
reserve,  it  is  true,  as  one  great  man  salutes  another,  yet 
with  evident  good-will. 

Stately  Acestor  sprang  up  from  his  couch,  went  to 
meet  the  fuller,  and  pressing  his  hand,  said  : 

"  I  greet  you,  Heracles  of  our  day !"  Then,  turn- 
ing to  the  others  —  he  usually  seemed  to  speak  to  as 
many  persons  as  possible  at  once  —  "  With  Lamon 
among  us  we  can  laugh  at  all  informers  and  slaves  of 
the  city  police  force.  Lamon  be  praised,  he  is  our 
shield,  our  armor!" 

With  these  words  Acestor  raised  his  head  and 
arched  his  chest  as  though,  having  bowed  to  another, 
he  hastened  to  take  the  place  that  was  his  due. 

Lamon  who,  like  most  remarkably  strong  men,  was 
somewhat  grave  and  taciturn,  now  opened  his  mouth 
for  the  first  time  and,  without  paying  the  least  heed  to 
Acestor's  flattery,  said : 

"  It  is  late.  If  Sthenelus  and  Lysiteles  would 
come,  we  could  begin." 

With  these  words  he  reclined  on  the  couch  opposite 
to  Xenocles  and  beckoned  to  Hipyllos. 


VIII. 

Lamon's  wish  appeared  to  be  uttered  in  a  lucky 
hour;  for  it  was  scarcely  spoken  when  again  a  stir 
arose  in  the  house  and,  directly  after,  voices  echoed  in 


THE    HETAERIA. 


119 


the  peristyle  outside.  It  was  a  peculiar  exchange  of 
words,  which  could  scarcely  be  called  a  conversation, 
since  only  every  other  sentence  was  heard.  One  of 
the  speakers,  especially,  had  a  voice  so  low  that  it  was 
lost  in  a  faint  murmur.  The  other,  on  the  contrary, 
talked  in  very  high,  clear  tones,  emphasizing  each  syl- 
lable with  a  distinctness  that  could  only  proceed  from 
long  training.  It  was  easy  to  perceive  that  his  mode 
of  speech  was  connected  with  his  profession  of  address- 
ing words  to  a  numerous  assembly.  Yet,  though  his 
voice  was  so  well  developed,  there  was  something  frivo- 
lous, mocking,  almost  insolent  in  the  tone,  which  pre- 
cluded the  thought  that  the  man  might  be  an  orator. 

The  dialogue  outside  began  with  a  whining  mutter, 
which  sounded  almost  as  if  it  came  from  a  disconsolate 
dog. 

"  Why  !"  replied  the  loud-voiced  speaker,  "  what  is 
there  strange  in  that  ?  Where  should  two  ragamuffins 
like  ourselves  meet  better  than  in  the  Himatiopolis 
Agora  (Rag-market)  ?" 

Again  a  mutter  was  heard,  that  sounded  like  a 
feeble  remonstrance. 

"  Simpleton !"  replied  the  loud  voice,  and  each  of 
the  sonorous  Attic  words  rang  out  so  distinctly  that  it 
was  impossible  not  to  listen.  "  How  can  you  make 
yourself  richer  than  you  are  ?  My  cloak,  my  robe, 
every  thread  I  have  belong  to  the  clothes-dealers,  I 
own. that!  But  the  wine  I  have  here"  (the  listeners 
knew  that  the  speaker  patted  himself  in  the  stomach) 
"belongs  to  me,  it  is  my  own,  —  my  own,  do  you  un- 


I20  PICTURES     OF    HELLAS. 

derstand  ?  —  even  if  it  isn't  paid  for.  So  am  I  not 
right  in  esteeming  wine  more  than  clothes  ?" 

The  question  was  answered  by  a  rude  laugh,  which 
could  scarcely  have  proceeded  from  the  low-voiced 
man,  but  was  doubtless  uttered  by  the  door-keeper  as 
he  followed  the  guests  across  the  peristyle. 

"  Good !"  cried  Xenocles  smiling,  "  there  is  our 
merry  brother  Sthenelus  the  actor." 

"  And  the  other,"  added  Acestor,  as  if  the  last 
comer  was  not  worth  mentioning  by  name. 

The  curtain  was  raised  and  two  persons  entered, 
each  a  queer  figure  in  his  own  way.  The  loud-tongued 
man,  Sthenelus  the  comedian,  was  a  plump  fellow  about 
forty  years  old,  with  a  red  face,  a  still  rosier  nose, 
small,  piercing  eyes,  and  tousled  brown  hair.  His  cos- 
tume consisted  of  a  shabby  grey  robe,  whose  Avhite  bor- 
der was  full  of  spots.  At  the  first  step  through  the 
door  he  sank  low  on  one  side  —  he  was  very  lame.  He 
had  not  been  born  with  this  infirmity,  but  once,  on  one 
of  the  great  festivals,  while  personating  Cecrops  with 
floating  plumes,  gold-broidered  cloak,  and  sword  with 
an  ivory  hilt  by  his  side,  he  had  carelessly  stepped  off 
the  boards  and  fallen.  Half  stunned  by  the  accident 
he  had  heard,  as  though  in  a  dream,  the  frantic  laughter 
of  the  crowd.  For  where  was  Cecrops  ?  The  hero's 
helmet  and  mask  were  lying  in  the  dust,  and  the  co- 
median's red  face  suddenly  appeared,  while  beneath  the 
magnificent  garments  were  some  shabby  rags  with  a 
pair  of  thin  legs,  whose  lack  of  proportion  to  the  huge 
cothjirtii  would  alone  have  been  sufiicient  to  awake  the 


THE    HETAERIA. 


mirth  of  the  populace.  But  this  fall,  amid  the  laughter 
of  thousands  upon  thousands  of  people,  had  serious 
consequences ;    from  that  day  Sthenelus  was  lame. 

No  one  pitied  him.  Who  knew  much  about  a  poor 
comedian  ?  In  whatever  character  he  appeared  the 
spectators  saw  only  a  close  linen  mask,  which  covered 
the  whole  head,  and  a  costume  that  suited  the  mask. 
An  Agonistes  might  appear  in  three  or  four  parts, 
year  after  year  on  the  great  holidays,  might  grow  old 
on  the  stage,  but  win  admiration  and  affection  —  im- 
possible !  It  was  the  lifelike  disguise,  the  mask  and 
robe  which  the  populace  applauded.  IF/io  was  con- 
cealed beneath  no  one  knew  and  no  one  cared  to 
know. 

As  Sthenelus'  lameness  had  rendered  him  useless  as 
an  actor,  he  was  obliged  to  fight  his  way  through  the 
world  as  he  best  could.  The  scanty  alms  bestowed  by 
the  state  upon  all  cripples  was  far  from  being  sufficient 
for  his  needs.  He  first  sold  his  stage  paraphernalia, 
his  masks,  daggers,  etc.,  and  then  wandered  through 
the  small  towns  in  the  neighborhood  of  Athens,  making 
merriment  for  the  inhabitants.  He  went,  as  he  himself 
said,  from  tragedy  to  comedy.  Jesting  became  his 
means  of  livelihood,  and  to  keep  up  his  courage  he 
drank  whenever  opportunity  oftered,  and  in  those  days 
opportunities  were  not  rare. 

"  Why  !  why  !"  he  said  as  he  entered,  "  you  are  as 
solemn  as  the  Areopagites  themselves.  By  Heracles, 
it  was  far  livelier  where  I've  been !  I  come  from 
Halipedon ;    the  good  folks  there  were  amusing  them- 


122  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

selves  by  jumping  on  leather  bottles.  Finally  a  fat 
sausage-dealer  set  his  flat  feet  on  one  so  that  it  burst 
with  a  loud  report  —  and  over  he  went  slap  on  his 
back  in  the  midst  of  the  mire.  There  wasn't  a  dry 
thread  on  him.     Ha  !    ha !    ha !" 

The  other  new-comer,  Lysiteles,  a  small,  wizened, 
hump-backed  man,  plucked  Sthenelus'  robe  to  warn 
him  to  be  less  noisy.  Then  he  greeted  the  assembled 
group,  but  in  an  awkward,  humble  way,  as  though  he 
knew  no  one  would  notice  the  salutation,  after  which 
he  shrank  into  himself  still  more,  so  that  nothing  was 
seen  of  his  face  except  a  big  pale  forehead  covered 
with  a  network  of  wrinkles. 

This  man  was  one  of  the  utterly  ruined  idlers,  of 
whom  there  were  so  many  in  Athens.  As  a  youth  he 
had  been  attractive,  gay,  haughty,  and  extravagant, 
but  all  that  was  left  of  the  "  magnificent "  Lysiteles 
was  a  decrepit  old  man  of  sixty  who,  with  age,  had 
red,  rheumy  eyes.  The  jester  Meidias  asserted  that 
Hermes  had  changed  his  eyes  to  two  fountains,  which 
wept  for  his  lost  fortune  day  and  night.  On  the  whole 
Lysiteles  was  accustomed  to  be  made  the  butt  of  jests. 
Some  dissolute  young  fellows  had  once  dragged  him  in 
to  a  dinner  at  the  house  of  ^-Egidion,  a  well-known 
hetsera  from  Corinth.  After  the  banquet  the  ques- 
tion was  asked . 

"  Can  any  one  tell  why  Lysiteles  is  more  crooked 
and  bent  than  any  other  Athenian  ?" 

^gidion  who,  clad  in  a  robe  of  semi-transparent 
stuff  from  Amorgos,  was  reclining  on  a  couch,  stretched 


THE    HETAERIA.  I23 

out  her  smooth  arm  adorned  with  a  gold  bracelet  and 

beckoned  to  Lysiteles.     Fixing  her  dark  eyes  on  him, 

she  gave  him  a  light  tap  on  his  lean  stomach  and  said : 

"  It's  hard  for  an  empty  sack  to  stand  upright." 


IX. 


Thuphrastos  invited  the  last  arrivals  to  be  seated. 

Lysiteles  took  the  couch  farthest  in  the  rear,  while 
Sthenelus  stretched  himself  at  full  length  on  one  of  the 
front  ones,  close  beside  the  master  of  the  house. 

Then  a  tall  mixing-vessel  was  placed  on  the  tiled 
floor.  It  was  a  vase  made  of  burnt  clay,  adorned  with 
a  mask  of  Silenus,  surrounded  by  fruits  and  flowers. 
Into  this  beautiful  vessel  the  Chian  wine  was  poured, 
after  being  mixed  —  by  the  general  desire  —  in  the 
proportion  of  one  part  wine  to  three  of  water.  Sthen- 
elus alone  demurred.  "  It's  frog's  wine,  not  human 
beings'  wine!"  he  said. 

Thuphrastos  gave  each  of  his  guests  a  wreath,  and 
set  small  tables  bearing  goblets  in  front  of  the  couches. 

To  any  one  familiar  with  Attic  customs  there  was 
something  remarkable  in  these  preparations.  Not  a 
single  slave  was  present  to  wait  upon  the  company. 
This  exclusion  of  the  servants  was  scarcely  natural  ; 
but  it  agreed  with  having  a  watchword  demanded  at 
the  door  of  the  house.  This  was  evidently  no  ordinary 
drinking-bout. 

When  the    goblets  were  filled    Thuphrastos    stood 


124  PICTURES     OF    HELLAS. 

forth  among  the  men  with  a  certain  solemnity  of 
manner.  Pouring  a  little  of  the  mixed  wine  into  a 
shallow  drinking-cup,  he  said :  "  To  the  good  spirit," 
sipped  the  liquor,  and  passed  the  cup  to  his  next 
neighbor. 

While  the  wine  was  going  the  round  of  the  com- 
pany, he  gazed  around  the  circle  with  an  earnest  look, 
then,  raising  his  voice,  he  said  in  his  singularly  abrupt 
fashion  : 

"  In  a  short  time  —  on  the  eleventh  day  of  the 
month  —  there  will  be  a  popular  assembly  and  election 
of  magistrates.  Who  can  foresee  the  result  ?  Shall  we 
come  forth  rejoicing  as  victors  or  grieving  and  exasper- 
ated by  defeat  ?" 

One  of  the  wicks  of  the  lamp  flared  up.  Thu- 
phrastos'  eyes  rested  on  Lysiteles,  who  sat  cowering  at 
the  back  of  the  group.  The  old  captain  did  not  con- 
sider his  manner  sufficiently  attentive. 

"  Man  !"  he  shouted,  as  if  he  wanted  to  rouse  him 
from  sleep. 

Lysiteles  started  and  approached  with  unsteady 
steps,  looking  still  more  hump-backed  than  before. 

"  The  elections  are  close  at  hand,"  repeated  Thu- 
phrastos,  raising  his  voice  as  though  speaking  to  a  deaf 
man.  "  Many,"  he  added,  laying  his  hand  on  Lysi- 
teles' shoulder,  "  see  in  you  a  man  sorely  persecuted 
by  the  gods  —  to  whom  no  one  ought  to  refuse  any- 
thing. Others  have  formerly  been  your  friends  and 
table  companions.  You  can  win  votes  —  many  votes, 
if  you  choose." 


THE    HETAERIA.  1 25 

"But,"  said  Acestor,  "he  is  feather-brained;  he 
might  betray  us." 

Sthenekis  half  started  from  his  couch.  There 
seemed  to  be  a  singular  comradeship  existing  between 
him  and  Lysiteles.  He  himself  jeered  at  him,  but  he 
would  not  allow  any  one  else  to  do  so. 

"  Feather-brained  ?"  he  repeated,  and  staring  fixedly 
at  Acestor  he  rolled  the  rug  spread  over  the  couch  into 
a  bundle  and,  propping  his  elbow  on  it,  raised  himself  a 
little.  "  My  friends,"  he  continued,  waving  his  hand 
with  the  gesture  of  an  orator,  "  lend  me  your  ears !  I 
know  a  man  who  in  former  days  was  handsome, 
wealthy,  and  extravagant.  He  was  called  "  the  Mag- 
nificent." Now  he  is  only  a  shadow,  and  considers 
himself  a  worm.  I  know  another  man  too.  He's  as 
showy  and  stately  as  one  of  Pyrilampes'  peacocks,  as 
hollow  and  noisy  as  a  drum ;  but,  because  many  admire 
him,  he  fancies  himself  a  demi-god  and  behaves  as 
though  he  had  vanquished  the  king  of  Persia  himself. 
Now,  I  ask,  which  of  these  two  is  the  more  feather- 
brained ?" 

"  By  Zeus,  the  second  !"  cried  little  Xenocles,  with 
more  haste  than  prudence. 

All  except  the  grave  Lamon  burst  into  a  peal  of 
laughter,  because  it  was  Xenocles,  Acestor's  friend,  who 
had  made  this  answer. 

An  angry  sparkle  flashed  into  Acestor's  eyes;  his 
lips  parted.     But  Thuphrastos  anticipated  him. 

"No  quarrelling!"  he  shouted  harshly.  "Lysiteles 
has  sworn  faith.     He  will  keep  his  oath." 


126  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

"  That  he  will,"  said  Sthenelus  with  a  glance  at 
Acestor.  "  Doesn't  he  know  —  as  we  all  do  —  that  a 
drawn  sword  is  hanging  over  our  heads  ?" 

"  Ah !"  added  Xenocles,  "  these  are  evil  days. 
What  changes  have  happened  during  the  last  few 
months !  First  happiness,  rejoicing,  the  intoxication  of 
battle  when  the  expedition  to  Sicily  was  determined. 
The  younger  men  flocked  to  the  wrestling-schools  and 
baths,  the  older  ones  to  the  work-shops  and  wine- 
rooms;  the  island  was  described  and  sketched  with 
the  surrounding  sea  and  the  cities  facing  Libya.  All 
quoted  Alcibiades'  words :  '  Sicily  is  only  the  earnest 
money  —  Libya  and  Karchedon  are  the  wages  of  the 
battle.  When  we  once  possess  them,  we  will  conquer 
Italy  and  surround  the  Peloponnesus.  A  great  future 
is  before  us;    Athens  is  worthy  to  rule  the  world!" 

"Yes,"  said  Acestor,  "  and  lo  —  in  the  midst  of  the 
rejoicings  came  evil  signs  and  omens.  What  did  men 
whisper  in  each  other's  ears  ?  Socrates'  good  spirit 
had  predicted  evil  —  the  soothsayers,  and  the  oracle  of 
Amnion  foretold  terrible  things  —  a  man  mutilated 
himself  on  the  altar  of  the  twelve  gods  —  and  ravens 
had  pecked  the  golden  fruits  on  the  bronze  palm-tree 
at  Delphi." 

"  In  truth,"  continued  Xenocles,  "  the  omens  were 
not  false.  Soon  came  that  fateful  morning  when  all 
the  hermae  in  the  market-place  except  those  outside 
of  Leagoras'  house,  were  found  broken  and  shame- 
fully disfigured.  Many  insolent  hands  must  have 
united  to   accomplish   so   much   mischief  in   a  single 


THE    HETAERIA. 


127 


night.  Who  will  ever  forget  the  frightful  tumult  in  the 
city  when  the  sacrilege  was  reported  ?  All  the  morn- 
ing the  heralds'  voices  were  heard,  first  summoning 
men  to  the  council  and  afterwards  to  the  popular  as- 
sembly. Just  before  noon,  a  reward  of  ten  thousand 
drachmae  was  offered  for  the  first  accusation.  This 
opened  the  door  to  all  the  powers  of  evil.  Citizens, 
metic,  and  slaves  vied  with  each  other  in  making  in- 
dictments in  the  council.  What  did  it  avail  that  Alci- 
biades  was  ordered  to  sail  with  the  fleet  ?  That  didn't 
end  the  matter.  .  .  ." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  muttered  Thuphrastos,  "  day 
by  day  there  was  more  and  more  legal  prosecution. 
Every  time  the  heralds  summoned  the  people  to  a 
council  terror  and  confusion  arose.  Peaceful  citizens 
talking  together  in  the  market  hastily  separated  from 
each  other  —  every  one  feared  a  false  accusation  and 
sought  refuge  beside  his  own  hearth-stone." 

"  And  not  without  reason,"  observed  Xenocles. 
"  What  has  become  of  those  denounced  like  Diocleides 
or  the  rich  metic  Teucros  ?  —  all  gone,  either  fugitives 
or  sentenced  to  death !  Remember  the  two  members 
of  the  council,  who  first  sought  refuge  at  the  altar  of 
the  gods,  and  afterwards  —  when  bail  had  been  given 
for  them  —  mounted  their  horses  to  leave  wives,  chil- 
dren and  all  they  possessed  —  glad  to  escape  with  only 
their  lives !  The  gods  be  praised  that  it  has  been 
more  quiet  in  the  city  lately." 

"  Don't  be  too  secure,"  said  Acestor  in  a  warning 
tone.     "  Phanus,  Cleon's  clerk  and  confidential  man. 


128  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

has  not  forgotten  the  time  when  his  master  was  treas- 
urer. He  bore  all  the  hetaeriae  ill-will,  but  he  has 
been  three  times  worse  since  Cleon's  death.  Now  that 
he  has  joined  Peisandros,  Charicles,  and  the  other  open 
or  secret  rulers,  he  sees  in  every  convivial  meeting  of 
friends  a  threat  against  the  safety  of  the  state,  and  has 
in  his  pay  a  whole  pack  of  informers  who,  like  sleuth- 
hounds,  understand  how  to  scent  an  hetaeria,  often 
without  any  other  clue  than  a  chance  word  or  a  vague 
hint." 

Lysiteles  groaned ;    all  the  others  were  silent. 


X. 


It  was  some  time  before  the  conversation  was  re- 
sumed. There  seemed  to  be  no  special  friendship 
between  these  "  friends ; "  each  had  his  own  hopes 
and  wishes. 

Thuphrastos'  desire  was  to  be  elected  state  envoy 
to  one  of  the  tributary  cities  which  threatened  revolt. 
It  was  an  office  that  lasted  only  thirty  days,  but 
during  this  short  time  afforded  an  excellent  opportunity 
for  money-making.  The  envoy  only  needed  to  inspire 
the  city  with  the  fear  of  a  stern  punishment,  to  induce 
it  to  enter  into  an  agreement  in  which  he  placed  his 
demands  as  high  as  possible  and  required  the  payment 
for  each  separate  item  in  ready  money.  This  was  the 
universal  method  of  proceeding  and  Thuphrastos  had 
no  hesitation  in  following  it.     In  and   for  itself  the 


THE    HETAERIA.  1 29 

proud  captain  of  horse  set  little  value  on  money ;  but 
he  was  a  poor  manager  and  continually  in  debt.  This 
was  not  without  peril  at  a  period  when  an  irresponsible 
debtor  might  be  sold  as  a  slave,  so  it  was  extremely 
important  for  him  to  be  elected,  and  he  anticipated 
with  anxiety  and  suspense  what  the  next  popular  as- 
sembly would  bring. 

Xenocles  did  not  aspire  so  high.  He  wanted  to  be 
superintendent  of  the  public  aqueducts.  These,  which 
were  supplied  from  the  neighboring  mountains,  bore  no 
resemblance  to  the  Roman  aqueducts,  but  consisted  of 
deep  canals  with  reservoirs  from  which  the  water  was 
distributed  to  the  city.  No  one  was  more  familiar 
with  this  gigantic  work  than  Xenocles;  for  in  his 
youth  he  had  been  employed  by  Meton  who  had  su- 
perintended the  excavations  and  masonry  of  the  whole 
of  the  newest  portion. 

"  Had  you  not  been  a  member  of  our  hetaeria," 
said  Sthenelus,  "  you  should  never  have  had  my  vote." 
And  when  Xenocles  asked  the  reason  he  replied  : 
"  Because,  by  Zeus,  you  know  the  aqueducts  far  too 
well  —  you'll  be  a  costly  superintendent." 

Lamon  cherished  wholly  different  wishes.  He 
wanted  to  be  gymnasiarch  *  —  a  post  for  which  he  was 
fitted  both  by  his  dexterity  in  physical  exercises  and 
his  unusual  strength.  He  was  one  of  those  who  daily 
visited  the  Lyceium.  It  was  a  pleasure  and  delight  to 
wander  among  the  crowd  in  the  roofless  marble  halls 
around  the  open  squares,  and  gaze  over  the  yellowish- 

*  Inspector  of  the  gymnasia. 
9 


130  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

white  sand,  where  hundreds  of  the  handsomest  youths, 
wrestHng  nude  in  the  sunUght,  displayed  their  agihty 
and  strength. 

Acestor  agreed  with  Thuphrastos,  flattered  Lamon, 
and  said  what  he  thought  would  please  Xenocles ;  but 
in  his  heart  he  despised  them  all  and  considered  him- 
self the  chief  man  in  the  hetaeria.  Nevertheless 
he  appeared  to  desire  nothing  except  to  become  one  of 
the  people's  advocates.  Every  one  who  knew  his  high 
opinion  of  himself  wondered  that  he  did  not  aspire  to 
some  greater  goal.  Hipyllos  had  also  noticed  that 
Acestor  had  been  unusually  silent  at  the  last  meetings 
of  the  hetaeria  and  concluded  that  he  was  cherishing 
some  secret  plan.  Thuphrastos  also  thought  his  man- 
ner strange,  and  determined  to  keep  a  watchful  eye 
upon  him. 

Hipyllos  was  very  differently  situated.  As,  with 
his  fortune,  he  belonged  to  the  class  of  "  knights  "  and 
was  bound  to  serve  in  the  mounted  troops  with  the 
weapons,  horses,  and  other  costly  outfit  incidental  to 
this  duty,  the  thought  of  obtaining  the  position  of  a 
captain  in  the  police  force  was  natural.  By  the  aid  of 
Thuphrastos  and  others  he  succeeded  in  being  elected, 
and  had  thus  attained  the  end  of  his  desires,  but  in 
doing  so  had  by  no  means  loosened  the  bond  uniting 
them  to  the  hetaeria. 

Sthenelus  would  have  liked  to  be  public  herald,  but 
he  was  a  cripple  and  the  heralds,  these  sacred  and  un- 
blemished men  with  the  serpent  staves,  the  "  friends  of 
Zeus,"  must  be  persons  without  any  physical  defects. 


THE    HETAERIA.  13I 

Therefore,  like  Lysiteles,  he  was  obUged  to  wait  until 
one  of  their  more  fortunately  situated  "  friends  "  had 
been  elected.  Many  of  those  chosen  to  fill  public 
offices  could  have  clerks,  and  to  Sthenelus  and  Lysi- 
teles, from  whose  houses  smoke  was  never  seen  to  rise, 
a  clerk's  salary,  though  small,  would  have  been  a  real 
blessing  from  the  gods. 

Thuphrastos  talked  of  the  numerous  law  cases  that 
would  pour  in  upon  him  when  the  time  of  his  embassy 
had  expired.  Oppressed  citizens,  informers  who  knew 
that  he  had  obtained  money,  envious  fellow  solicitors 
—  would  all  rush  to  him. 

"  So  it's  worth  while.  Friends,  to  be  firm,"  he  said. 
"You,  Hipyllos,"  he  added  with  a  winning  smile, 
•"  must  contrive  to  have  your  uncle  appear  before  the 
court." 

This  was  evidently  an  allusion  to  a  very  aristocratic 
and  distinguished  man.  It  was  a  common  custom  to 
bring  powerful  families  into  the  courts  of  justice  to 
make  an  impression  upon  the  judges.  Xenocles  who, 
from  his  impoverished  youth,  had  cherished  a  special 
reverence  for  all  prominent  personages,  raised  his  head 
like  a  horse  pricking  its  ears. 

"  Hipyllos'  uncle  ?"  he  asked,  "  who  is  that  ?" 

"  The  former  archon,  Euthydemus." 

"  An  archon !"  repeated  Xenocles,  gazing  at  Hip- 
yllos as  though  the  latter  had  suddenly  grown  taller. 

Hipyllos  thought  of  pretty  Clytie,  and  did  not  lose 
his  opportunity. 

"  Why  yes,"  he  said  carelessly,  "  our  family  is  said 


132  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

to  descend  from  the  Pallantidae,  Theseus'  old  antago- 
nists. It  has  numbered  not  a  few  archons,  among 
them  one  whose  name  you  all  know  —  Lacrateides." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Lamon  with  unexpected  energy, 
the  one  in  whose  archonship  the  severe  winter  hap- 
pened. My  grandmother  often  spoke  of  it.  The  roads 
were  covered  with  snow,  and  poor  people  struggled 
for  room  in  the  baths  so  that  some  fell  on  the  stoves 
and  were  burned." 

Xenocles  stared  at  Hipyllos. 

"  A  descendant  of  Lacrateides !"  he  exclaimed, 
clasping  both  his  hands.  "  Excellent  young  man ! 
You  belong  to  one  of  the  noblest  races  in  Athens  — 
and  you  never  mentioned  it  till  now  !" 

Thuphrastos,  to  whom  this  interruption  seemed 
long,  loudly  cleared  his  throat. 

"  To  business !"  he  said  harshly.  "  What  do  you 
think  ?     Shall  we  deal  with  Megas,  the  dyer  ?" 

"  He  is  a  man  highly  esteemed,"  replied  Lamon. 
"  His  whole  family  connection  see  with  his  eyes  and 
speak  with  his  lips.     He  disposes  of  numerous  votes." 

"  Megas  !"  exclaimed  Sthenelus,  "  The  dyer  without 
a  work-shop.  .  .  .  yes,  by  Zeus,  I  know  him.  He's  a 
man  of  strict  Spartan  manners  —  always  goes  plainly 
dressed  and  bare-footed.  .  .  .  But  when  this  pattern 
of  manly  sobriety  meets  his  companions  at  night  there 
is  —  I  swear  to  you  —  no  infamy  that  is  not  committed. 
To  me  that  Megas  is  detestable." 

"  Well,  there  is  Medon,  the  brass-founder,"  said 
Xenocles.     "  He's  a  pleasanter  fellow  to  bargain  with. 


THE    HETAERIA.  I33 

Do  you  know  him  ?  —  A  stout,  sun-burned  man,  who 
loves  wine  and  is  always  laughing.  His  family  is  even 
more  numerous  than  the  one  of  which  Megas  is  head." 

"  Why  not  win  them  both  ?"  asked  Hipyllos. 

"  There  isn't  money  enough,"  replied  Thuphrastos. 

"  Shall  it  be  Medon  ?"  said  Xenocles. 

After  some  discussion,  this  was  generally  approved. 

"  But,"  said  Hipyllos,  more  thoughtful  than  some 
of  the  older  men,  if  Megas  finds  out  that  we  go  to 
Medon  —  will  he  not  be  vexed  and  perhaps  betray 
us  ?" 


XI. 


As  a  captain  in  the  mounted  police  Hipyllos  was 
obliged  to  have  a  helmet,  breast-plate,  shield,  lance, 
sword,  and  spurs ;  besides  the  armor  required  for  the 
forehead,  chest,  and  flanks  of  the  horse.  The  greater 
part  of  this  costly  equipment  was  made  by  the  armorer 
Sauros.  The  latter  did  not  live,  like  most  of  those  who 
followed  his  trade,  in  the  Scambonidae  quarter  of  the 
city,  but  in  the  street  of  the  sun-dials,  and  his  forge 
was  in  the  alley  obliquely  opposite  to  the  side-building 
of  Xenocles'  house.  This  was  a  place  Hipyllos  never 
wearied  of  visiting;  merely  to  know  he  was  near 
pretty  Clytie  was  a  delight  to  him. 

The  day  after  the  meeting  at  Thuphrastos'  house, 
he  was  to  try  on  the  cuirass.  He  reached  Sauros' 
shop  just  at  twihght.     The  smith  had  gone  out,  but  a 


134  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

young  slave  who  was  filing  a  metal  plate  thought  he 
would  soon  return.  The  work-shop  was  filled  with 
smoke  and  unpleasant  odors,  so  Hipyllos  preferred  to 
wait  outside. 

A  luxuriant  garden  extended  to  a  slope,  along 
which  ran  a  walk  overgrown  with  vines  supported  on 
cross-bars  resting  on  tall  poles.  The  end  of  this  walk, 
where  Hipyllos  stood,  was  closed  by  a  dilapidated  wall. 

A  wide  view  was  obtained  from  this  place.  At  the 
left  rose  the  hill  of  the  Museium  and  farther  on  the 
Acropolis  towered  into  the  air.  The  streets,  trees,  and 
houses  between  stood  forth  in  dusky  outlines  amid  the 
gloom  of  twilight.  Lamps  shone  here  and  there.  The 
sky  was  slightly  overcast,  and  the  foliage  exhaled  a 
strong  odor  as  though  it  was  going  to  rain.  Ever  and 
anon  a  sleepy  gust  of  wind  stirred  the  damp  air. 
Everything  expressed  peace  and  rest,  and  the  most 
profound  silence  reigned  in  this  quarter  of  the  city. 

Suddenly  light  footsteps  and  mysterious  whispers 
were  heard  at  a  little  distance. 

Hipyllos  looked  through  a  gap  in  the  ruined  wall, 
and  saw  several  women  approaching  from  the  other 
end  of  the  walk.  The  first  one  carried  a  lantern  with 
horn  sides  and  seemed  to  be  showing  the  second  the 
way.     A  third  figure  followed. 

The  woman  with  the  lantern  was  dressed  in  a 
strange,  outlandish  costume.  Over  her  head  a  blue 
cloth  wrought  with  silver  stars  was  drawn  in  long 
folds,  two  of  which  hung  down  on  her  breast,  and  on 
her  hair  above  the  brow,  in  place  of  a  clasp,  glittered  a 


THE    HETAERIA.  I35 

gold  sun.  She  wore  a  blue  robe,  and  across  her 
bosom  and  shoulder  passed  a  broad  white  band  upon 
which  were  embroidered  golden  suns,  crescents,  and 
stars. 

At  this  time  there  lived  in  Athens  a  woman  of 
foreign  birth  named  Ninus,  who  called  herself  a  priest- 
ess of  the  Phrygian  god  Sabazius.  She  foretold  future 
events  and  brewed  love-potions,  while  invoking  gods 
and  demons.  Rumor  said  that  she  had  a  large  num- 
ber of  customers,  especially  women. 

Hipyllos  did  not  doubt  that  this  was  the  person  he 
saw.  She  seemed  to  be  about  forty  years  old;  her 
face  was  still  beautiful,  though  uncommonly  pale,  and 
as  cold  and  motionless  as  if  hewn  from  stone. 

Her  companion  was  closely  veiled  and  wrapped  in 
a  long,  dark  robe  drawn  over  her  face  like  a  hood. 
Hipyllos  could  not  catch  the  smallest  glimpse  of  her 
features,  but  so  far  as  he  could  judge  from  her  figure, 
bearing,  and  gait,  she  was  young,  and  so,  too,  seemed 
the  female  slave  who  followed  her. 

The  new-comers  directed  their  steps  towards  the 
vine-covered  alley  where  Hipyllos  was  standing.  The 
priestess  of  Sabazius  set  the  lantern  on  a  stone  table 
just  inside  the  ruined  wall,  and  took  from  a  basket  a 
quantity  of  strange  things.  As  well  as  Hipyllos  could 
see  by  the  dim  light,  among  them  were  metal  bowls, 
laurel  branches,  purple  wool,  an  iron  gridiron,  some 
wax  figures,  and  a  wheel. 

During  these  preparations  her  veiled  companion 
had  often  showed  signs  of  impatience. 


136  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

"Oh,  if  I  had  never  come!"  she  exclaimed.  "A 
daughter  outside  of  her  father's  house  after  dark!  If 
my  mother  should  miss  me  —  what  a  disgrace  !" 

The  voice  which  echoed  in  clear,  musical  tones  on 
the  stillness  of  evening  made  Hipyllos'  heart  throb. 
He  had  never  heard  Clytie  speak,  but  it  seemed  to 
him  that  she  must  speak  thus. 

"  Have  no  fear,  pretty  maid,"  said  Ninus  in  a  sin- 
gularly deep  voice  with  a  foreign  accent.  "  Let  Doris 
run  back  and  keep  watch.  Then  you  can  be  called  at 
once." 

"  Yes,  dear  Doris,  run,  run  !" 

The  slave  hngered,  but  was  obliged  to  obey. 

Hearing  the  name  of  Doris  strengthened  Hipyllos 
in  the  beUef  that  Clytie  stood  before  him,  for  the  slave 
through  whom  he  had  learned  from  Manodoros  that 
her  mistress  loved  him  was  called  Doris. 

"  Make  haste,  good  Ninus,"  said  the  veiled  figure 
when  she  was  left  alone  with  the  priestess.  "  I  am 
trembling  with  fright." 

"  Give  me  time,"  muttered  Ninus.  "  Do  you  sup- 
pose the  gods  can  be  invoked  as  we  draw  water  or 
chop  wood  ?  It  would  be  a  pity,"  she  added,  pointing 
to  the  numerous  articles  on  the  table,  if  all  this  should 
have  been  done  in  vain.  I  was  obliged  to  bargain 
with  and  bribe  slaves.  How  else  could  I  get  a  man's 
shoe  or  the  fringe  from  his  upper  garment  ?  But  to 
bargain  and  bribe.  ..." 

Ninus  paused,  casting  a  side-glance  at  the  young 


THE    hItAERIA.  137 

girl,  who  remained  silent.  The  priestess  saw  that  she 
must  speak  more  plainly. 

"  But  to  bribe,"  she  added,  "  requires  money,  a 
great  deal  of  money." 

"  I  haven't  any;    I've  never  had  money." 

This  was  evidently  not  the  first  time  the  answer 
had  been  given  to  Ninus.  She  understood  how  to 
help  herself. 

"  Well,  well !"  she  cried,  "  if  you  have  no  money, 
my  pretty  one,  you  probably  have  many  rings,  clasps, 
and  such  things." 

The  veiled  figure  threw  back  her  cloak ;  two  daz- 
zlingly  white  arms  appeared  a  moment  and  unfastened 
a  brooch  from  her  forehead.  But  the  light  from  the 
lantern  was  so  faint  that  Hipyllos  rather  imagined  than 
saw  the  features  which  to  him  were  the  dearest  in  the 
world. 

"  Take  this  ornament,"  she  said ;  "  I  have  many  of 
them.  .  .  .     Take  this  pin  and  clasp  too." 

Ninus  bent  her  head  to  conceal  her  delight. 

"  Generous  girl !"  she  exclaimed,  "  who  would  not 
gladly  serve  a  maiden  fair  as  Aphrodite  and  blooming 
as  Artemis  ?" 

"  Offer  your  thanks  to  Doris,"  said  the  veiled 
figure.  "  She  persuaded  me  to  come.  She  has  told 
you  all,  even  that  terrible  thing  —  the  worst  misfortune 
which  could  befall  me." 


138  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 


XII. 

HiPYLLOS  Strained  his  attention  to  the  utmost. 

Ninus  herself  seemed  to  become  somewhat  thought- 
ful at  hearing  the  girl's  words. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  to  your  mother  ?"  she  said. 

"  Ah,  no,  no  !  Mother  will  not  venture  to  help  me. 
She  wants  only  what  my  father  desires." 

Ninus  was  silent  a  moment. 

"  Yet  there  is  no  other  way,"  she  said.  "  You  must 
either  go  to  your  mother  or  do  what  Doris  advises." 

"  Follow  Doris'  advice  ?"  cried  the  veiled  figure 
impetuously.  "  No,  never,  never !  What  are  you 
asking  ?     I  should  die  with  shame." 

How  eagerly  Hipyllos  listened.  Here  was  some- 
thing he  did  not  understand. 

"  True,"  replied  Ninus,  "  it  must  be  torture  to  a 
respectable  girl.     Yet  to  him.  .  .  ." 

The  muffled  figure  hastily  interrupted  her. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  know  whom  you  mean." 

A  faint  smile  flitted  over  Ninus'  pallid  features. 

"Aha!"  she  murmured.  "You  are  afraid  I  might 
utter  his  name,  and  that  it  might  be  an  ill-omen.  So 
you  think  of  him  very  often,  pretty  maid  ?" 

The  young  girl  bent  her  head  with  a  bewitching  air 
of  embarrassment. 

"  Then  it  is  true,"  Ninus  persisted,  "  you  often 
think  of  him  ?" 


THE    HETAERIA.  I39 

"  Always,"  was  the  reply. 

Hipyllos  could  have  hugged  the  sorceress  for  that 
one  word. 

"  Girl,"  said  Ninus  suddenly,  "  is  your  mind  devout 
and  your  body  pure  ?" 

"  Before  coming  here  I  prayed  to  the  gods  and 
anointed  myself." 

Ninus  was  silent  for  a  time,  then  going  close  to  the 
muffled  form  she  asked  in  a  whisper : 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  of  stones  animated  with 
souls,  which  have  fallen  from  the  skies  ?  We  call 
them  baetyli,  but  among  your  people  they  are  known 
by  the  name  of  orites  or  side  rite  sT 

"  I  know  nothing  about  them,"  replied  the  young 
girl,  then  seizing  the  priestess'  hand  with  an  enquiring 
gesture  she  murmured :  "  Tell  me,  what  do  these 
baetyli  give  ?" 

"  Counsel." 

"What!     Stones  — talk?" 

"  Hush,  hush  !  In  the  name  of  the  gods  —  silence. 
It  is  a  great  mystery." 

Hipyllos  listened  attentively.  He  had  already 
heard  of  a  strange  connection  between  demons  and 
stones;  he  knew  that  in  the  temple  of  Apollo  at 
Delphi  there  was  a  stone  that  had  fallen  from  the  sky, 
which  was  daily  anointed  with  oil.  This  was  the 
stone  Rhea  had  let  Cronos  swallow  instead  of  Zeus. 

"  As  you  know,  fair  maid,"  Ninus  continued,  "  I 
will  gladly  serve  you." 

"  I  shall  not  be  ungrateful." 


140  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Ninus  shook  her  head. 

"  Promises  are  words  written  in  water,"  she  mur- 
mured. 

The  young  girl,  without  answering,  began  to  draw 
a  ring  from  her  finger  but  Ninus  prevented  it. 

"  The  ring  is  worth  eight  drachmae,"  she  said. 
^'  Conjuring  with  the  stone  will  cost  ten  times  as  much. 
Know  that  hitherto  no  Hellene  has  made  a  baetylus 
speak.  Such  things  can  only  be  learned  in  Phrygia  .  .  . 
Farewell,  maiden ;    we  must  part.  .  .  ." 

"  Don't  leave  me !"  cried  the  girl,  seizing  Ninus' 
robe.  "  Look !"  she  added  drawing  from  her  arm  a 
glittering  gold  band,  "  if  this  is  enough,  take  it." 

"  I  am  easily  satisfied,"  said  Ninus,  snatching  the 
gold.  "  Well  then,  I'll  tell  you  everything.  Before  a 
baetylus  will  show  its  power  one  must  fast  thrice  seven 
days  and  hold  no  conversation  with  men;  then  the 
stone  must  be  washed  in  spring-water  and  clad  in 
swaddling  clothes  like  a  little  child.  Even  this  is  not 
enough.  A  lamp  must  be  lighted  in  a  clean  room  in 
the  house,  incense  offered,  and  prayers  repeated.  All 
this  I  have  done  from  the  hour  Doris  first  told  me." 

Ninus  now  thrust  both  hands  down  into  the  basket 
and,  with  great  care,  drew  out  a  smooth  oval  stone, 
wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes  like  a  new-born  child. 

Holding  out  the  stone,  she  bowed  low. 

Hipyllos  felt  like  a  person  who,  at  some  untimely 
hour,  had  entered  a  sanctuary  and  beheld  things  no 
mortal  eye  ought  to  see. 

"  Maiden,"  whispered  Ninus,  "  take  the  haetyhis  in 


THE    HETAERIA.  I4I 

your  arms  and  rock  it  to  and  fro.  But  beware  of 
dropping  it ;    for  then  it  would  be  angry," 

The  veiled  figure  received  the  stone  with  evident 
anxiety. 

Ninus  now  lighted  some  charcoal  on  the  gridiron 
by  the  flame  of  the  lantern,  scattered  incense  upon  it, 
and  let  the  smoke  rise  before  the  baetyliis.  Then, 
taking  it  from  Clytie's  hands,  she  removed  the  swad- 
dling clothes  and  anointed  it  with  oil. 

"  Look  !"  she  cried,  raising  it  in  the  air,  "  the  soul 
,is  coming." 

Hipyllos  felt  a  slight  thrill  of  awe.  He  fancied  he 
saw  the  stone  make  a  slight  movement  in  the  priestess' 
hands. 

Ninus  now  rocked  it  more  violently  and  in  a 
strange  tone,  that  sounded  like  the  monotonous  buzzing 
of  an  Egyptian  sistrum,  chanted  the  following  words  : 

Orites,  lend  thine  ear, 
Stone  smooth  and  splendid, 
Let  us  the  spirit  hear 
Within  thy  heart  hid. 
Stone  that  thyself  canst  stir, 
From  earth  arising, 
Lipless  art  thou,  yet  murmur 
Counsel  inspiring. 

Again  the  stone  seemed  to  make  a  slight  move- 
ment. 

The  priestess  of  Sabazius,  bending  over  it,  whis- 
pered : 


142  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

"  By  the  two  great  mysteries,  life  and  death,  I  con- 
jure thee,  Orites,  raise  thy  voice  and  answer.  Shall 
this  maiden  apply  to  her  mother  or  shall  she  follow  the 
advice  of  the  slave-girl,  Doris  ?" 

A  whimpering  sound  like  an  infant's  cry  was  heard. 

Ninus  bent  lower  and  kissed  the  stone  three  times 
—  a  strange,  weak  voice,  which  seemed  to  issue  from  it 
with  difficulty,  said  slowly,  syllable  by  syllable,  the  two 
words  : 

"  0-bey  Do-risT 

Hipyllos  had  been  made  no  wiser  by  this  scene. . 
He  did  not  yet  know  what  terrible  thing  had  happened 
to  Clytie  or  for  what  reason  she  sought  advice. 

The  priestess  of  Sabazius  wiped  the  perspiration 
from  her  forehead,  and  in  absolute  silence  washed  the 
iaetylus  and  put  on  its  swaddling  clothes. 

"See!"  she  said  as  she  replaced  it  in  the  basket, 
"  the  spirit  is  departing  again.  .  .  .  But  know  one  thing, 
girl;  you  must  do  what  the  baetylus  advised;  the 
'  Unknown '  do  not  give  their  counsel  in  vain." 

"  I  will  do  it,"  replied  the  muffled  figure  sighing. 
■"  But  —  the  other  thing  of  which  Doris  told  you  ?" 

Ninus  smiled. 

"  You  haven't  seen  him  for  ten  days,"  she  mur- 
mured.    "And  you  think  that  he  has  forgotten  you  ?" 

"  Dear  Ninus !"  cried  the  girl,  pressing  her  hand 
upon  her  bosom.  "  He  is  my  hope,  my  only  hope. 
Your  spells  will  not  harm  him  ?" 

There  was  such  tender  anxiety  in  the  question,  that 


THE    HETAERIA.  143 

Hipyllos  felt  an  almost  unconquerable  desire  to  spring 
forward  and  clasp  the  young  girl  in  his  arms. 

"  No,"  rephed  Ninus.  "  These  spells  will  do  no 
harm.  But,  since  I  fulfil  your  wishes  in  this,  give  me 
the  ring  you  showed  me  just  now." 

Clytie  hastened  to  comply  with  the  demand. 

Ninus  then  drew  out  an  article  wrapped  in  a  cloth. 
*'  This  is  one  of  his  sandals,"  she  whispered.  Scatter- 
ing sulphur  on  the  charcoal  she  held  the  sandal  in  the 
smoke,  then  flung  salt  into  the  flame,  saying  in  a  slow, 
solemn  tone  : 

"  Hi-pyl-los,  Cly-ti-e !" 

The  young  man  felt  a  shiver  run  through  his  limbs 
at  hearing  his  name  so  suddenly. 

Ninus  glanced  around.  This  was  the  moment 
when  the  person  summoned,  drawn  by  an  invincible 
power,  ought  to  appear  and  fall  at  his  loved  one's  feet. 

The  priestess  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Hm !"  she  muttered,  as  though  baffled.  "  Your 
fear  was  not  groundless,  pretty  maid.  Take  this  vessel 
I  use  in  pouring  libations  and  wrap  the  purple  wool 
around  it,  put  these  laurel  branches  on  the  flames,  hold 
the  wax  near  them,  and  set  the  dish  beneath." 

At  the  same  time  Ninus  raised  aloft  a  tri-colored 
wax  image  and  flung  fragrant  boughs  upon  the  fire 
before  it. 

"  Hear  me,  most  terrible  of  goddesses,  mysterious 
Hecate!"  she  cried,  "  mercifully  aid  us  and  make  our 
spells  more  powerful  than  those  of  Medea  and  Circe. 
Let  his  blood  bum  as  these  laurel  leaves  are  consumed 


144  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

in  the  flame,  and  his  heart  bleed  and  melt  with  tender- 
ness for  this  maiden  as  this  wax  melts  from  the  heat." 

Ninus  started  and  listened. 

The  baying  of  a  dog  was  heard  in  the  stillness  of 
the  night. 

"  Hush !"  she  muttered.  "  I  hear  dogs  barking. 
Hecate  is  near  —  in  the  cross-road  yonder,  where  her 
altar  stands.  Strike  these  metal  basins  against  each 
other  —  let  the  sound  tell  her  that  we  feel  her  ap- 
proach. Oh,  Hecate,  stern,  exalted  goddess,  I  will 
pour  three  libations  in  thy  honor!  Thrice  accursed  be 
each  new  fancy  of  the  man  this  maiden  loves.  Let 
him  instantly  desert  her  rivals,  as  Theseus  deserted  the 
hapless  Ariadne." 
*     Then,  seizing  the  wheel,  she  set  it  in  motion. 

"  Let  his  footsteps  circle  around  this  maiden's 
dwelling,  as  this  wheel  turns  on  its  axle.  Direct  his 
steps  hither,  lofty  goddess,"  continued  Ninus,  throwing 
a  powder  upon  the  charcoal.  "  Appear,  oh  Hipyllos, 
appear  r''  she  called  loudly.  A  clear  yellow  flame  shot 
high  into  the  air  and  vanished  with  a  faint  crackling 
sound,  like  a  flash  of  lightning. 

By  the  glow  the  young  girl  had  seen  Hipyllos'  face 
appear  and  disappear  like  a  vision  in  a  dream  —  a  wall 
seemed  to  open  and  close  over  it.  Terror  and  surprise 
made  her  utter  a  piercing  shriek.  Ninus  fancied  her- 
self watched  and  blew  out  the  light. 

While  Hipyllos,  dazzled  by  the  blaze,  was  groping 
his  way  around  the  corner  of  the  wall  he  heard  the 
dry  twigs  snapping   under   hurried   footsteps.     It   was 


THE    HETAERIA.  I45 

the  two  women,  who  were  steahng  away  through  the 
other  end  of  the  long  arbor.  He  wanted  to  follow 
them,  but  ran  into  the  arms  of  the  armorer's  slave  who 
was  looking  for  him  to  say  that  his  master  had  come. 
Almost  at  the  same  moment  the  door  of  Xenocles' 
house  closed  with  a  bang,  rendering  farther  pursuit 
useless. 

He  followed  the  slave  into  the  shop.  Sauros  de- 
served credit  for  his  work;  the  cuirass  fitted  admir- 
ably. But  Hipyllos  did  not  hear  the  smith's  long  ex- 
planations; his  sole  desire  was  to  be  alone  with  his 
thoughts.  So,  when  the  fitting  was  over,  he  hastily 
took  his  leave,  called  his  slave,  told  him  to  light  a 
torch  and  set  out  on  his  homeward  way.  His  dis- 
appointment at  pretty  Clytie's  escape  had  already 
vanished ;  nay  even  his  anxiety  about  the  trouble 
threatening  her  was  forced  to  yield  to  the  blissful 
thought  of  being  beloved  by  the  fairest  maiden  in 
Athens.  He  knew  that  now  from  her  own  lips  —  for 
it  did  not  occur  to  him  to  doubt  that  the  muffled  figure 
was  Clytie  herself. 


XIII. 

The  following  day  Hipyllos  returned  from  the 
race-course  shortly  after  noon  and  flung  himself  upon  a 
couch ;  but  his  blood  was  too  keenly  stirred  for  him  to 
find  immediate  repose.  He  still  saw  and  heard  only 
the  chariot-races.     A  long,  long  course,  marble  benches 


14-6  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

filled  with  passionately  excited  spectators,  slanting  rows 
of  chariot  sheds,  falling  barricades,  horses  dashing  for- 
ward four  abreast,  clouds  of  dust,  clapping  of  hands, 
and  shouts  of:  "  Speude,  speude !"  (haste)  and: 
"Aristeue!"  (keep  ahead)  —  all  this  had  gone  to  his 
head  like  intoxication.  Gradually  his  excitement  died 
away  into  a  pleasant  lassitude,  and  at  the  same  time 
his  thoughts  wandered  to  the  conjuration  the  day 
before  in  Sauros'  garden.  Again  he  heard  the  priestess 
of  Sabazius  say  :  "  You  think  of  him  very  often,  pretty 
maid  ?"  and  recalled  the  bewitching  movement  with 
which  the  young  girl  had  bent  her  head  and  whispered 
the  one  word  :  "  Always  !"  that  had  almost  made  him 
betray  himself  in  his  delight.  He  had  reached  this 
point  in  his  love-dream,  when  the  door-keeper  entered. 

"  A  young  slave-girl  wants  to  speak  to  you,"  he 
said.     "  She  has  a  letter  from  her  mistress." 

Hipyllos  started  from  the  couch. 

"  Bring  her  in  —  quick." 

He  understood  two  things  —  that  some  misfortune 
must  really  have  befallen  Clytie,  and  that  what  Doris 
had  advised  and  the  baetyliis  confirmed  was — to  write 
to  him. 

A  young  slave  with  a  bright  face  entered  and,  fold- 
ing her  arms  across  her  breast,  bowed  before  him. 

Hipyllos  hastily  advanced  to  meet  her. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  gods,  what  has  happened  ?" 
he  asked. 

"This  letter  will  tell  you,"  replied  Doris  —  for  it 


THE    HETAERIA.  147 

was  she  —  and  handed  him  two  wax-tablets  folded  to- 
gether. 

Hipyllos  broke  the  ribbon  that  confined  them, 
opened  the  tablets,  and  read  the  lines  traced  upon  the 
wax.     They  ran  as  follows  : 

"  Clytie,  Xenoc.les'  daughter,  greets  Hipyllos,  Chae- 
Tetades'  son. 

"  It  is  necessary,  doubly  necessary,  for  me  to  write, 
first  for  the  sake  of  the  matter  itself  and  secondly 
because  a  higher  power  has  counselled  me  to  do  so. 
But  I  shall  make  the  message  short  —  for  it  concerns  a 
misfortune.  Know  that  my  father,  urged  by  that  man, 
has  hastened  my  marriage,  and  the  wedding  will  take 
place  in  five  days.  Woe  is  me,  funeral  flambeaux 
would  be  more  welcome  than  those  bridal  torches. 
Yet  how  is  escape  possible  ?  Can  a  daughter  contend 
against  her  father  ?  Can  a  wife  oppose  her  husband  ? 
My  mother  kisses  me  and  weeps  with  me,  but  says  she 
dares  not  do  that.  You,  oh  Hipyllos,  are  the  only 
person  with  whom  I  can  seek  refuge.  What  you  will 
do,  I  know  not.  But  I  turn  to  you  as  an  ill-treated 
slave  flies  to  the  altar.  Your  vow  that  day,  in  my 
mother's  hearing,  was  no  promise  written  in  water.  I 
read  sincerity  and  truth  in  your  face,  and  since  that 
hour  I  have  considered  you  the  master  of  my  life. 
You  will  not  yield.  In  the  midst  of  my  grief  I  have 
but  07ie  joy  —  that  you  cannot  see  me.  My  cheeks 
are  crimson  with  shame,  and  my  eyes  are  full  of  tears. 
This  letter,  the  first  and  last,  I  still  write  as  a  maiden." 


148  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

While  reading  these  hnes  the  most  varied  feeUngs 
assailed  Hipyllos ;  he  felt  both  grieved  and  channed. 
He  again  glanced  over  the  letter,  and  the  superscrip- 
tion awakened  a  feeling  of  delight.  The  young  girl, 
educated  under  her  mother's  eye,  was  honesty  itself — 
it  had  not  once  occurred  to  her  to  write  anonymously. 
She  did  not  utter  a  single  unkind  word  about  Acestor, 
the  source  of  her  trouble ;  she  merely  alluded  to  him 
as  "  that  man."  And  how  touching  was  her  confi- 
dence !  She  did  not  know  what  he  would  do,  yet  she 
appealed  to  him  as  the  only  person  with  whom  she 
could  find  refuge.  And  the  last  warning  that  there 
was  only  a  short  time  for  action  she  expressed  in  the 
words  "  I  write  this  still  as  a  maiden." 

There  was  something  so  womanly  in  the  letter  that 
Hipyllos  felt  his  heart  swell  with  pride  and  happiness. 
It  seemed  as  though  some  part  of  the  lovely  girl's  per- 
sonality clung  to  the  wax  tablets  and  the  delicate  lines 
traced  upon  them,  and  again  he  vowed  to  win  her, 
cost  what  it  might. 

Hipyllos  glanced  from  the  letter  to  the  slave. 

She  was  a  blooming  girl,  sixteen  or  seventeen  years 
old,  rather  tall  than  short,  with  a  brown  skin  and  curl- 
ing black  hair.  Her  dress  was  a  white  linen  robe, 
confined  under  the  youthful  bosom  by  a  girdle  striped 
with  blue  and  yellow. 

Doris  smilingly  returned  the  look.  She  understood 
the  whole  matter. 

"  Why  is  the  wedding  so  hurried  ?"  asked  Hipyllos. 
"  Why  does  it  take  place  in  five  days  ?" 


THE    HETAERIA.  149 

"  How  should  I  know  ?"  replied  Doris.  "  Some  of 
the  slaves  think  Acestor  needs  the  dowry." 

Hipyllos  took  from  a  low  chest  a  reed,  "  the  black 
kind,"  and  a  roll  of  the  papyrus  known  among  dealers 
by  the  name  of  taneotica. 

While  Doris,  knowing  that  on  her  return  she  would 
be  obliged  to  describe  every  couch,  rug,  and  tripod, 
was  gazing  around  the  room,  Hipyllos  sat  down  at  a 
small  table  and  wrote  as  his  youth  and  love  dictated : 

"  I  greet  you,  beautiful  Clytie,  my  light,  my  soul, 
and  my  life  ! 

"  Your  letter  has  been  a  source  of  both  terror  and 
delight.  But  the  terror  is  conquered  and  the  delight 
remains.  Rely  upon  me,  I  shall  leave  nothing  untried. 
But  should  I  not  save  you  in  the  five  days,  my  advice 
is  this :  Feign  illness,  so  that  the  marriage  must  be 
delayed.  I  shall  thus  gain  more  time.  And  now  fare- 
well, dearest  treasure  of  my  soul !  Be  of  good  courage 
and  calm  yourself." 

A  drachma  was  slipped  with  the  letter  into  Doris' 
hand  and,  blushing  for  joy,  she  left  Hipyllos  with  the 
best  wishes  for  him  and  Clytie. 

The  young  man  was  scarcely  alone  ere  he  became 
absorbed  in  thought.  "  Five  days !"  he  murmured, 
"  five  days !"  He  could  have  killed  Acestor,  but  he 
perceived  that  violence  was  no  way  to  win  the  fair  girl. 
To  go  to  Xenocles  and  tell  him  everything  would  cer- 
tainly be  the  simplest  method,  but   would   the  latter 


150  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

break  his  pledged  word,  especially  so  short  a  time 
before  the  wedding  ?  It  surely  was  not  probable. 
After  long  irresolution  Hipyllos  thought  of  Thuphras- 
tos.  The  old  soldier  was  clever  in  everything  he  un- 
dertook, experienced  in  all  the  relations  of  life,  and  re- 
nowned for  his  wise  counsel.  Besides,  Clytie's  father 
had  the  greatest  respect  for  him.  Perhaps  he  might 
help. 


XIV. 

The  next  moment  Hipyllos  was  on  his  way  to 
Thuphrastos.  It  was  just  the  hour  between  the  time 
to  go  to  market  and  the  time  of  visiting  the  gymnasia. 
As  the  young  man  expected,  he  found  the  old  captain 
at  home.  The  latter  received  him  kindly  and  listened 
to  him  attentively  but,  when  Hipyllos  mentioned  his 
real  errand,  Thuphrastos  frowned  and  gave  him  a  flat 
refusal. 

"  What  do  you  ask  ?"  he  said  in  his  rough  way. 
"  I  am  to  go  to  Xenocles  —  and  dictate  to  him  to 
whom  he  shall  marry  his  daughter  ?  Make  myself  a 
laughing-stock  for  him  and  others  ?  No,  young  man, 
you  don't  know  Thuphrastos." 

Hipyllos  bent  his  head  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the 
ground.     His  last  hope  was  destroyed. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  in  which  the  dog 
was  heard  rattling  his  chain  outside. 

Thuphrastos  straightened  his  grey  robe,  rubbed  his 


THE    HETAERIA.  151 

bald  pate,  and  absently  pulled  his  beard,  Hipyllos 
felt  ashamed  of  his  request  and  looked  thoroughly  dis- 
heartened. At  last  Thuphrastos  laid  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder  and  sat  down  on  the  couch  by  his  side, 

"  Don't  lower  your  eyes  like  a  woman,"  he  said, 
and  then  added  in  a  kinder  tone  :  "  Pluck  up  your 
courage !     There  are  other  ways  and  means." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Hipyllos,  raising  his 
head. 

"  Listen  —  I'm  going  to  give  you  a  piece  of  advice. 
The  old  general  Stratocles  once  saw  some  of  his  heavy- 
armed  troopers  turn  pale  when  about  to  meet  the  foe. 
He  instantly  shouted :  '  If  any  of  you  have  forgotten 
anything  in  the  camp,  you  can  go  and  get  it!'  One 
man  sneaked  timidly  out  of  the  ranks,  followed  by  five 
or  six  others.  '  Good !'  cried  Stratocles,  '  the  cowards 
have  gone !  Now  we  have  only  brave  men  among 
us.'  Then  he  rushed  forward,  and  the  enemy  fled.  .  .  . 
But,  young  man,  you  don't  yet  fully  understand  ?" 

Hipyllos  made  a  gesture  of  denial. 

"  Well  then,"  Thuphrastos  continued  with  a  certain 
impetuosity,  as  though  he  could  not  utter  what  he  had 
to  say  quickly  enough,  "  I  think  your  rival,  Acestor,  is 
a  chatterer  and  a  coward  —  I  mean  —  that,  like  those 
slaves,  he  must  be  brought  to  show  himself  in  his  true 
colors.  Then  Xenocles  —  without  asking  anybody's 
advice  —  will  let  him  go." 

"  Splendid  !  Excellent !"  cried  Hipyllos,  clapping 
his  hands.  "  Men  don't  praise  your  clever  counsel 
without  cause.     But  how  is  this  to  be  managed  ?" 


152  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

"  By  Zeus,  there's  no  difficulty  about  that.  Make 
yourself  small  as  he  makes  himself  great  —  feign  to  be 
timid,  and  let  him  show  himself  brave.  Then,  when 
he  has  puffed  himself  up  well,  give  him  a  real  fright. 
Pretend  that  the  meetings  of  the  hetaeriae  are  dis- 
covered, that  the  house  is  surrounded  by  bowmen,  and 
when  he  is  trembling  with  terror  and  doesn't  know 
where  to  hide,  do  as  Stratocles  did  with  the  cowards — 
give  him  an  excuse  to  slip  away,  and  he'll  speedily 
show  the  hollows  under  the  soles  of  his  feet." 

Hipyllos  laughed.  The  pair  talked  together  some 
time  longer,  and  when  the  young  man  went  away  all 
anxiety  and  doubt  had  forsaken  him. 


XV. 


Hipyllos'  letter  was  a  joy  and  comfort  to  Clytie, 
but  it  did  not  soothe  her.  Five  days  was  so  short  a 
time !  Amid  tears  and  caresses  she  confided  in  her 
mother,  and  described  Hipyllos  with  such  loving  elo- 
quence that  Maira  (her  mother)  was  won  over  to  her 
wishes.  Though  Clytie  had  little  faith  in  her  interces- 
sion, she  went  to  her  and  by  entreaties  and  persuasions 
induced  her  to  promise  to  tell  her  story  to  Xenocles. 
Two  of  the  five  days  had  already  passed,  so  there  was 
no  time  to  lose. 

The  next  evening,  when  the  husband  and  wife  were 
supping  together,  the  husband  comfortably  extended 
on  a  couch  and  the  wife  sitting  humbly  on  its  outer 


THE    HETAERIA.  153 

edge,  Maira  —  not  without  a  secret  tremor  —  ventured 
to  mention  the  subject ;  but  the  hot-tempered  httle 
man  scarcely  understood  what  she  was  talking  about, 
ere  he  started  up  and  repulsed  her  in  such  a  way  that 
she  dared  not  revert  to  the  matter  again.  Every  hope 
of  Maira's  assistance  was  thus  cut  off,  and  to  speak  to 
her  father  herself  did  not  even  enter  the  young  girl's 
mind.  She  could  do  nothing  but  fix  her  last  faint 
hope  on  Hipyllos. 

Yet,  when  the  day  before  the  wedding  arrived 
without  any  prospect  of  deliverance,  Clytie  ceased  to 
weep  and  fell  into  a  state  of  dull  insensibility,  like  a 
person  who  is  utterly  hopeless.  "  What  is  the  use  of 
pretending  to  be  ill?"  she  thought.  They  will  say: 
*' It  is  nothing  —  it  will  pass  off!  Can  I  oppose  them 
all  ?  Can  I  keep  the  bridal  procession  waiting  ?  No, 
even  if  I  complain  of  sickness,  they  will  lift  me  into 
the  chariot  and  let  that  man  carry  me  to  his  house." 

From  that  moment  she  felt  as  though  she  had  no 
will  in  anything. 

When  evening  came,  the  last  evening  she  was  to 
spend  under  her  parents'  roof,  her  mother  and  a  few 
female  slaves  were  busied  about  her  in  her  maiden- 
bower.  It  was  a  small  room  with  reddish-brown  walls, 
lighted  by  a  clay  lamp  which  stood  on  a  brass  tripod. 
Clytie  sat  on  a  low  chair,  with  her  face  turned  from  the 
lamp,  and  Doris  stood  behind  her  in  the  act  of  fasten- 
ing her  hair  into  a  knot.  At  the  back  of  the  room 
Maira  and  a  middle-aged  slave,  who  had  been  Clytie's 
nurse,  were  busied  in  examining  robes,  kerchiefs,  gir- 


154  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

dies,  and  over-garments,  which  they  spread  out  on  the 
young  girl's  bed,  a  small  maple-wood  couch,  covered 
with  embroidered  pillows  and  coverlets. 

A  sorrowful,  troubled  mood  prevailed.  Even  the 
atmosphere  of  the  little  room  was  heavy,  as  though 
saturated  with  the  peculiar  damp  freshness  of  women's 
clean  garments,  mingled  with  a  penetrating  odor  of 
ointments  and  Median  apples,  the  latter  being  laid 
between  the  stuffs  to  perfume  them.  Now  and  then 
Clytie's  mother  and  the  nurse  exchanged  a  few  words, 
but  as  softly  as  if  they  were  trying  not  to  disturb  some 
sick  person.  Clytie  resigned  herself  in  perfect  silence 
to  the  care  of  her  favorite  attendant,  and  even  the 
latter's  nimble  tongue  was  still. 

Suddenly  a  girl's  merry  voice  was  heard  outside. 
According  to  ancient  custom  the  bride,  on  her  mar- 
riage eve,  bathed  in  water  brought  from  the  Fountain 
of  Enneacrunus. 

This  water  must  be  brought  by  a  virgin,  and  a 
young  neighbor,  Coronis,  the  daughter  of  a  rich 
basket-maker,  who  from  childhood  had  been  Clytie's 
friend  and  looked  up  to  her  with  admiration,  had  gone 
with  her  slaves  to  the  fountain  to  fetch  the  water. 

As  she  entered,  a  breath  of  gayety  and  life  seemed 
to  come  into  the  silent  room.  Coronis  was  a  merry 
little  maid,  with  a  childish  face,  whose  dark  eyes,  lips, 
cheeks,  dimples  —  all  laughed.  She  was  dressed  en- 
tirely in  white,  and  carried  the  laurel  branch  used  for 
purification.  This  she  instantly  put  down  by  the  door, 
as  if  to  say  :    "  Stay  there,  you  useless,  solemn  thing." 


THE    HETAERIA.  I55 

She  had  so  much  to  tell  that  she  scarcely  took  time 
to  greet  Clytie  and  her  mother.  She  had  met  at  the 
fountain  two  other  bride-maids;  they  had  talked  to- 
gether, and  Coronis  therefore  knew  all  about  the  wed- 
dings which  were  to  take  place  the  next  day;  she 
knew  the  fathers,  mothers,  brides,  and  bridegrooms, 
and  had  a  great  deal  to  say  about  the  marriage  gar- 
ments, bridesmen,  and  nuptial  banquets. 

When  her  story  was  ended,  preparations  were  itiade 
for  a  ceremony  which  the  art  of  those  days  has  repre- 
sented upon  many  a  vase. 

Doris  placed  a  bath-tub  shaped  like  a  mussel-shell 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  set  the  full  hydria  beside 
it.  Then,  kneeling  before  her  mistress,  she  loosed  her 
girdle  and  unfastened  the  clasps  on  her  shoulders. 
Two  slight  pulls  were  sufficient  to  make  the  garments 
fall  around  the  hips,  and  from  a  cloud  of  white  folds 
appeared  the  whole  upper  portion  of  the  maiden's  slen- 
der form,  whose  fairness,  seen  against  the  brown  wall, 
became  doubly  dazzling  and  seemed  created  to  ensnare 
both  eyes  and  hearts. 

Now  began  the  familiar  talk  that  always  takes 
place  among  women  on  such  occasions. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are,  dear !"  exclaimed  little 
Coronis,  pressing  a  light  kiss  on  her  friend's  shoulder. 
"  What  a  complexion  —  what  is  the  finest  Syrian  stuff 
compared  with  its  smoothness  !" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  middle-aged  nurse,  with  as  much 
self-satisfaction  as  though    she  considered    Clytie    her 


156  nCTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

own  work,  "  I  know  that  even  Leda's  bosom  was  not 
more  beautiful,  ...  no  breast-band  is  needed  here." 

Doris  glanced  with  a  smile  at  Coronis  and  the 
nurse. 

"  What  you  praise  deserves  the  highest  compli- 
ments," she  said,  "  but  it  is  not  what  I  value  most." 
With  a  look  of  earnest  affection  she  knelt  before  Clytie, 
took  her  hand,  and  kissed  it.  "  What  I  value  most  is 
my  beautiful  mistress'  goodness.  I  have  served  her 
daily  ever  since  she  was  a  Httle  child  —  and  never  in 
that  long  time  has  she  uttered  a  single  unkind  word." 

"  Believe  me,  my  Clytie,"  the  mother  added,  not 
■without  a  certain  pride,  though  her  eyes  were  full  of 
tears,  "  you  will  be  fortunate  and  happy.  What  hus- 
band can  fail  to  love  you  —  so  good  and  so  beautiful!" 

Coronis  now  took  her  friend  by  the  hand.  As 
Clytie  rose,  the  garments  slipped  lower  and  remained 
lying  around  her  on  the  floor  like  a  broad  white  linen 
garland.  An  instant,  but  only  an  instant,  the  young 
girl,  faintly  illumined  by  the  lamp,  stood  in  the  white 
beauty  of  her  snowy  limbs  in  the  dusky  room ;  then, 
with  a  swift  movement,  she  stepped  out  of  the  folds  of 
her  robes  into  the  bath-tub. 

Coronis,  with  a  mischievous  expression,  raised  the 
full  hydria. 

"  Prepare  to  shiver,  Clytie,"  she  said  laughing. 
"  I'm  going  to  do  what  is  written  in  Lamprus'  bath- 
song."  And  holding  it  so  that  the  water  trickled 
down  over  the  shining,  supple  body,  she  chanted  in  a 
low  tone : 


THE    HETAERIA.  ,  I57 

"Slowly  pour  the  fountain's  water 
O'er  the  white  neck  of  the  bride; 
Brow  and  bosom  let  it  moisten, 
Hand,  and  foot,  and  back,  and  side! 
Soon  the  fair  one  will  perceive  the 
Cooling  freshness  of  the  bath, 
As  her  fair  limbs'  marble  whiteness 
The  pink  bloom  of  roses  hath." 

While  Doris  was  wiping  her  mistress'  back  with  a 
soft  woollen  cloth,  the  latter's  eyes  followed  the  quiv- 
ering drops  of  water  that  chased  and  mingled  with 
each  other  on  her  white  neck  before  trickling  in  wav- 
ing streams  over  the  smooth  skin.  Clytie  was  not 
vain  of  her  beauty;  but  when,  as  now,  she  looked 
down  over  the  soft  slope  of  her  shoulders  and  the 
chaste  curves  of  her  bosom  she  could  not  help  receiv- 
ing an  impression  of  something  uncommonly  pretty. 
The  water  had  not  only  strengthened  her  body,  but 
given  fresh  vigor  to  her  mind.  A  multitude  of 
thoughts  darted  through  her  brain.  Did  not  Homer 
himself  tell  the  story  of  a  bloody  war  waged  for  a 
fair  woman's  sake  ?  So  woman's  beauty  must  be 
something  precious.     And  for  whom  was  she  destined  ? 

She  saw  in  imagination  her  bridegroom  Acestor  — 
stately  and  boastful,  but  without  a  trace  of  Attic  refine- 
ment, heavy  and  dull.  She  had  only  cast  one  hasty, 
timid  glance  at  him,  but  a  woman's  glance  is  like  a 
flash  of  lightning,  and  she  had  caught  him  fixing  his 
eyes  on  her  with  an  expression  she  had  never  seen. 
She  felt  that  it  was  monstrous,  a  desecration,  to  be 


158  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

given  to    this  man,   and  secretly  vowed  to  shun  no 
means  of  escaping  so  bitter  a  fate. 
This  resolve  was  soon  to  be  tested. 


XVI. 

Scarcely  had  Maira,  accompanied  by  the  nurse, 
left  the  room  to  go  with  Coronis  to  the  door  and  make 
a  final  survey  of  the  house,  when  a  noise  like  a  pebble 
flung  against  the  wall  was  heard  outside.  Faint  as  the 
sound  was,  Doris  started  and  Clytie,  who  was  in  the 
act  of  putting  on  her  tunic,  stopped,  blushed  crimson, 
and  held  her  breath  to  listen. 

Doris  ran  to  the  peep-hole  and  drew  the  red  cur- 
tain aside.  A  voice  whispered  a  few  words  which 
sounded  like  a  question. 

Before  Doris  replied,  she  turned  towards  Clytie  and 
said :  "  It  is  his  slave  Manodoros.  .  .  .  He  asks  if 
you  are  alone." 

Then  she  put  her  head  through  the  hole  and  an- 
swered in  a  smothered  tone :  "  Yes,  entirely  alone. 
But  what  do  you  want  ?  Speak.  My  mistress' 
mother  has  just  gone  out,  and  will  be  back  directly." 

Again  there  was  a  whisper  outside. 

Doris  stretched  her  arm  through  the  opening  as  far 
as  she  could.  At  the  same  moment  her  neck  and  ears 
grew  crimson,  and  she  stamped  her  foot  impatiently. 
*'  Let   go !"   she  cried,  "  let   go !     This  is  no  time  for 


THE    HETAERIA. 


159 


trifling."  When  she  again  turned,  she  held  in  her 
hand  a  letter  written  on  a  papyrus-scroll. 

"  Read  it,  dear  Mistress,"  she  said  as  she  took  the 
bath-tub  and  carried  it  away.  "  I'll  keep  watch  out- 
side." 

Clytie  seized  the  letter  with  a  trembling  hand  and 
broke  the  seal.  The  dull  expression  of  her  features 
had  vanished,  and  her  lovely  face  was  radiant  with  ex- 
pectation and  hope. 

The  letter  contained  the  following  lines,  which 
seemed  to  have  been  hastily  written,  for  here  and  there 
a  word  was  erased  and  changed  for  another. 

"  Dearest   Clytie  ! 

"You  are  alone  against  many;  I  fear  you  may 
let  yourself  be  over-persuaded.  You  must  fly ;  it  is 
the  only  way  of  escape.  The  priestess  of  Sabazius  is 
willing  to  receive  you.  Doris  must  go,  too,  or  she  will 
be  tortured  and  confess  everything. 

"  In  the  name  of  all  the  gods,  do  what  I  advise, 
my  beloved.  Have  you  not  yourself  called  me  the 
lord  of  your  life  ?  You  can  easily  escape  through  the 
garden ;  keep  concealed  a  few  days,  and  all  danger 
will  be  over.  I  shall  know  how  to  soothe  your  father's 
wrath.  Besides,  can  it  be  counted  against  the  many 
happy  years  awaiting  us  ?" 

If  this  letter  had  come  earlier,  Clytie  would  never 
have  decided  upon  a  step  so  entirely  opposed  to  what 
was  seemly  for  an  Attic  maiden.     The  idea  of  quitting 


l6o  PICTURES    OK    HELLAS. 

her  father's  roof  would  have  appeared  to  her  the  most 
impossible  of  all.  Yet,  now  that  her  aversion  to  Aces- 
tor  had  become  as  intense  as  her  love  for  Hipyllos,  she 
thought  the  letter  very  bold,  but  at  the  same  time  per- 
ceived that  Hipyllos  told  the  truth.  The  danger  was 
imminent,  and  there  was  no  escape  save  flight  if  they 
were  not  to  be  parted  forever. 

"  He  is  right,"  she  thought.  "  I  have  called  him 
the  lord  of  my  life.  Should  I  then  fail  to  fulfil  his  first 
command?  No  —  I  will  do  what  he  directs  —  happen 
what  may." 

When  Doris  entered  to  fetch  the  empty  hydria, 
Clytie  stood  before  her  with  flushed  cheeks  and  a 
glance  which  expressed  firm  resolution. 

"  When  everything  is  quiet  in  the  house,"  she  said, 
"  I  shall  fly  through  the  garden.     You  will  go  with  me." 

Doris  stared  at  her  in  open-mouthed  amazement; 
the  empty  hydria  she  had  taken  dropped  from  her 
hand  and  broke  with  a  rattling  noise  on  the  tiled  floor. 

"  May  the  gods  avert  the  warning  !"  she  murmured, 
as  she  picked  up  the  pieces. 

But  Clytie  did  not  allow  herself  to  be  disturbed. 

"  When  father  and  mother  are  asleep,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  you  must  shp  into  their  chamber  and  get  the 
key  of  the  garden." 

Doris  scarcely  beheved  her  ears.  She  no  longer 
recognized  Clytie.  Was  this  the  timid  young  girl  who 
had  been  afraid  to  meet  Ninus  and  whom  she  was 
obliged  to  lead  step  by  step  ?  Now  it  was  Clytie  who 
commanded  and  Doris  who  hesitated. 


THE    HETAERIA.  l6l 

"  But,  do  you  think,  Mistress,  .  .  .  ?" 

Clytie  raised  her  hand  with  a  gesture  that  com- 
manded silence. 

At  the  same  moment  steps  were  heard  outside. 
Clytie's  mother  returned  and,  sending  Doris  away, 
seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  couch  and  drew  the 
young  girl  down  beside  her.  This  was  the  last  even- 
ing the  daughter  would  spend  at  home.  Maira  ten- 
derly stroked  Clytie's  hair,  clasped  her  hands  in  her 
own,  and  talked  a  long  time  to  her  in  a  whisper. 
When  they  at  last  parted  it  was  reluctantly,  after  many 
an  embrace  and  caress,  and  the  eyes  of  both  were  wet 
with  tears. 

Clytie  felt  a  twinge  of  remorse,  but  it  did  not 
change  her  resolve. 

Tearing  a  strip  of  papyrus  from  Hipyllos'  letter,  she 
wrote  the  following  lines : 

"  Dear  Mother ! 

"  Forgive  me,  I  must  fly  —  I  abhor  that  man. 
But  do  not  fear !  I  shall  seek  a  safe  place,  where  no 
harm  will  befall  me.  Doris  goes  with  me.  In  a  few 
days,  when  the  danger  is  over,  I  will  come  back. 
Farewell,  dear  mother,  blessings  on  you  for  your  love ! 
I  leave  my  father's  house  a  virgin,  and  as  a  virgin  I 
shall  return." 

When  Clytie  had  fastened  the  strip  of  papyrus  with 
a  pin  to  the  pillow,  she  gathered  together  the  few 
articles  of  clothing  she  would  need  for  a  short  absence. 


l62  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

Doris  now  came  stealing  in ;  she  had  been  Ustening 
outside  the  chamber.  Xenocles  and  his  wife  were  not 
yet  asleep,  but  were  talking  to  each  other;  she  had 
heard  them  utter  the  word  "bride-man." 


XVII. 

An  hour  later  Doris  again  glided  through  the  open 
hall  of  the  women's  apartment,  called  the  prostas,  to 
the  chamber  occupied  by  Clytie's  parents.  She  lis- 
tened, but  heard  nothing ;  the  conversation  seemed  to 
have  ceased.  The  room  was  one  of  the  iQ\N  apart- 
ments in  a  Greek  house  that  could  be  closed  by  a 
door.  Fortunately  this  door  was  ajar,  but  to  slip  in 
Doris  was  obliged  to  push  it  farther  open.  Scarcely 
had  she  touched  it  when  she  was  startled  by  a  loud, 
distinct  creaking.  She  felt  her  cheeks  grow  bloodless, 
but  she  must  go  in.  With  the  utmost  caution  she 
again  took  hold  of  the  door,  and  this  time  it  opened 
noiselessly.  Silently  as  a  shadow  she  stole  barefooted 
into  the  room.  A  sultry,  heavy  atmosphere  greeted 
her.  She  heard  the  breathing  of  the  sleepers,  but 
there  was  no  other  sound.  From  the  peristyle  the 
faint  light  of  the  night-heavens  shone  through  the  open 
doorway.  Doris  saw  the  bed  indistinctly  \  something 
light  trailed  on  the  floor  beside  it  —  doubtless  a 
woman's  long  robes  hanging  from  a  chair.  She  cau- 
tiously groped  her  way  forward,  fearing  to  knock 
against  something  and  make    a  noise.     There  was  a 


THE    HETAERIA.  163 

Strange  feeling  of  insecurity  about  her,  and  her  feet 
seemed  as  heavy  as  lead.  With  dilated  eyes  she  saw, 
or  fancied  that  she  saw,  two  human  figures  stretched 
upon  the  bed.  Advancing  a  few  steps  nearer  she  felt 
paralyzed  with  terror  and  on  the  point  of  falling.  One 
of  the  figures  sat  upright  in  the  bed  and  turned  its  face 
towards  her.  She  could  not  see  the  eyes,  but  was 
aware  that  the  person  saw  her  distinctly. 

"  Is  it  you,  Doris  ?  What  do  you  want  ?"  a  voice 
said,  interrupting  the  silence. 

Doris  knew  the  tones,  though  amid  the  darkness 
and  stillness  of  the  night  they  seemed  to  have  a  ghostly 
sound.     It  was  Maira  who  spoke. 

The  mother  was  so  engrossed  by  the  thought  of  her 
daughter's  wedding,  that  she  had  not  been  greatly 
startled  by  seeing  Doris  glide  in.  The  voice  merely 
sounded  a  little  surprised. 

Doris  could  not  answer ;  it  was  impossible  for  her 
to  utter  a  single  word. 

"  What  do  you  want  so  late  ?"  Maira  said  again, 
this  time  with  a  touch  of  impatience. 

Doris  forced  herself  to  control  her  voice. 

"  The  key.  .  .  ."  she  stammered,  "  I  want  to  get  the 
key." 

"  Why  ?" 

"  The  night-lamp  has  gone  out,  and  1  want  to  light 
it  at  the  neighbor's." 

"  Simpleton,  you  can  light  it  from  Clytie's.  It  is 
shining  on  the  pillars  outside." 

This  was  unanswerable  —  Doris  thought  her  cause 


164  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

lost.  But  the  very  magnitude  of  the  danger  forced  her 
to  calm  herself.  She  drew  a  long  breath,  and  once 
more  felt  in  possession  of  her  wits.  She  tvotild  have 
the  key.  And  all  the  resolution  and  defiance  that 
exist  in  a  firm  determination  suddenly  filled  her  soul  so 
completely  that,  heedless  whether  she  roused  Xenocles 
or  not,  she  went  straight  to  her  goal. 

"  But  I  must  have  the  key,"  she  replied  in  a  tone 
that  sounded  cold  and  strange  in  her  own  ears,  "  I 
want  to  pour  out  the  bath-water." 

"  Let  it  stand  till  morning." 

Doris  felt  with  her  hand  over  the  wall  near  the 
head  of  the  bed  and  found  the  nail  with  the  three- 
toothed  key,  which  she  took  quietly  without  any  ex- 
treme haste. 

"  I  dare  not  let  the  water  stand,"  she  said,  "  my 
mistress  ordered  me  to  pour  it  out." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  she  left  the  room  as 
lightly  as  a  feather,  and  breathless  with  joy  and  excite- 
ment ran  back  to  Clytie,  before  whom  she  trium- 
phantly held  aloft  the  key. 

Clytie  clasped  her  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her  ten- 
derly, then,  without  losing  a  moment,  she  gave  her  the 
bundle  of  clothes,  threw  a  blue-striped  kerchief  over 
her  head,  and  holding  her  faithful  maid-servant's  hand, 
glided  out  of  the  room. 


THE    HETAERIA.  165 


XVIII. 

Clytie's  heart  was  throbbing  with  excitement.  In 
passing  on  she  raised  the  curtain  hanging  at  the  door 
of  the  apartment  in  which  stood  the  images  of  the 
household  gods,  and  bowing  towards  the  Httle  statues, 
wholly  invisible  in  the  gloom,  murmured  in  a  low 
tone  : 

"  Do  not  be  wrathful,  protectors  of  my  race  !  Do 
not  desert  me  because  I  forsake  you." 

Then,  accompanied  by  Doris,  she  walked  through 
the  open  hall  into  a  large  work-room  set  apart  for 
women.  The  darkness  here  was  so  great  that  nothing 
was  visible  save  two  narrow  grey  streaks ;  these  were 
the  loop-holes  in  the  wall,  through  which  the  room 
received  its  light  by  day.  A  warm  atmosphere,  the 
heat  emanating  from  human  bodies,  greeted  the  fugi- 
tives, and  they  heard  the  heavy  breathing  of  numerous 
sleepers.  Most  of  the  female  slaves  of  the  household 
spent  the  night  here  on  couches  made  of  piles  of 
cushions  or  felt  rugs  ranged  along  the  wall.  As  Doris 
moved  towards  the  garden  door  she  ran  against  some- 
thing, probably  a  tall  tripod.  She  hastily  caught  at  it, 
but  in  the  darkness  missed  her  aim  and  it  fell  with  a 
heavy  crash,  while  a  copper  lamp  which  had  stood 
upon  it  rattled  on  the  stone  floor.  The  slave  women 
started  from  their  sleep ;     the  shrieks  of  one  terrified 


1 66  PICTURES     OF    HELLAS. 

the  others  till  all  vied  in  screaming.  Hasty  footsteps 
crossed  the  peristyle,  and  a  man's  voice  cried  angrily : 

"  What  an  ado  !  Why  are  you  yelling  so  ?  What 
is  it  ?" 

"  Hush,  you  simpletons !"  said  Doris'  well-known 
tones,  "  do  you  take  me  for  a  thief  who  has  lifted  the 
door  off  its  hinges  or  dug  his  way  through  under  the 
wall  ?" 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?"  asked  the  door- 
keeper of  the  women's  apartment ;  for  it  was  he  who 
had  hurried  in. 

Meantime  Doris  had  found  the  lock  and  put  the 
key  in  it. 

"  Oh,  pshaw !"  she  replied,  as  though  vexed  by  so 
much  disturbance,  "  I'm  going  to  pour  out  the  bath- 
water. In  the  dark  I  ran  against  a  tripod  —  it  fell, 
and  so  they  screamed  as  if  they  were  possessed  by 
some  evil  demon." 

With  these  words  she  opened  the  door,  pushed 
Clytie  out,  and  followed  herself. 

The  fugitives  now  found  themselves  in  the  garden. 
Here  the  darkness  was  not  too  great  to  permit  them  to 
distinguish  without  difficulty  the  paths  winding  between 
the  black  masses  of  the  shrubs  and  trees.  A  damp 
wind  blew  into  their  faces  and  the  odor  of  the  flowers 
was  oppressively  strong;  they  heard  a  rustling  among 
the  leaves,  hke  the  sound  of  dice  dropping  on  a  copper 
shield,  and  big  drops  fell  singly. 

After  the  anxiety  she  had  experienced  Clytie  felt 
unspeakable  relief.     It  seemed  as  if  she  inhaled  liberty 


THE    HETAERIA.  167 

with  every  breath  of  the  night  air,  and  she  thought 
with  a  touch  of  joyful  dread  of  meeting  Hipyllos. 
Doris  was  still  absorbed  by  the  remembrance  of  the 
nocturnal  disturbance  in  the  house,  but  consoled  her- 
self by  thinking  that  the  door-keeper  would  explain 
everything. 

Outside  the  garden  gate  stood  two  dark  figures.  One 
wore  his  hair  cut  short  —  so  he  was  a  slave ;  the  other 
had  long  locks,  and  though  both  appeared  like  dim 
black  outlines  Clytie  instantly  recognized  Hipyllos  by 
the  stately  way  in  which  his  mantle  was  draped  about 
him  —  in  itself  sufficient  to  mark  the  young  Eupatride. 

Clytie's  heart  beat  faster,  and  she  suddenly  trem- 
bled in  every  limb  as  she  had  done  the  evening  she 
stole  out  to  meet  the  priestess  of  Sabazius.  She  had 
scarcely  stepped  outside  of  the  garden,  when  Hipyllos 
hurried  towards  her. 

"  I  thank  you,"  he  said,  blessings  on  you  for 
coming." 

The  young  girl  made  no  reply ;  she  was  far  too 
much  agitated  and  confused  to  be  able  to  utter  a  single 
word. 

"  You  saw  the  necessity,"  Hipyllos  continued, 
"  and  besides.  .  .  ." 

He  paused  and,  smiling,  gazed  into  her  face;  he 
had  never  seen  her  look  lovelier.  The  blue-striped 
kerchief  she  had  thrown  over  her  head  cast  a  slight 
shadow  upon  her  features,  which  lent  them  a  mysteri- 
ous charm. 


l68  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

.  .  .  .  "  And  besides,"  he  added,  "  you  wrote  that 
you  trusted  me." 

Clytie  raised  her  dark  eyes  to  him, 

Hipyllos  threw  his  arm  around  her  waist,  and 
though  he  felt  a  shght  movement  of  resistance  he  led 
her  in  this  way  the  short  distance  to  the  hired  house 
where  the  priestess  of  Sabazius  lived.  It  was  a  dwell- 
ing called  a  tristegos,  a  three-storied  house  which  be- 
longed to  Sauros,  the  armorer,  and  stood  close  beside 
his  workshop. 

At  the  first  subdued  tap  of  the  knocker,  Ninus  was 
ready  and  opened  the  door. 

Hipyllos  clasped  both  of  Clytie's  hands. 

"  We  must  part,"  he  said.  "  But,  whatever  hap- 
pens, do  not  go  home  until  you  have  received  a  mes- 
sage from  me.  And  now  farewell,  you  beautiful  one, 
you  darling,  you  light  of  my  life !" 

He  pressed  her  to  his  breast,  and  ere  she  could 
prevent  it  he  had  snatched  a  kiss. 

But  Clytie  tore  herself  from  his  embrace,  gathered 
the  folds  of  her  robe  around  her,  and  fled  as  hghtly  as 
a  deer  up  the  steps,  where  her  slender  figure  vanished 
in  the  darkness. 

Hipyllos  gazed  after  her. 

"  By  Aphrodite,"  he  exclaimed,  "  she  is  like  a  but- 
terfly." 


THE    HETAERIA.  1 69 


XIX. 

Maira  did  not  sleep  much  that  night,  The  next 
morning  she  was  surprised  not  to  see  Doris  flitting 
about  the  house,  and  having  found  Cly tie's  room 
empty,  she  did  not  doubt  that  her  daughter  was  in  the 
garden  with  her  favorite  attendant.  She  went  there 
and  called  repeatedly ;  but,  when  silence  was  the  only 
reply,  a  presentiment  of  misfortune  darted  through  her 
mind.  She  hurried  back  to  Clytie's  chamber,  searched 
it,  found  the  papyrus  note  on  the  pillow,  and  read  its 
contents  with  breathless  haste. 

"  Merciful  Gods !"  she  exclaimed,  clasping  her 
hands.  "  Gone  —  fled  in  the  night !  .  .  .  .  Clytie, 
Clytie,  how  could  you  cause  me  such  sorrow  ?  Make 
our  house  the  scorn  of  envious  neighbors  —  What  will 
your  father  say  ?     He  will  rage  and  curse  you.  .  .  ." 

Suddenly  a  revulsion  of  feeling  came  over  her. 

"  Well,  let  him  rage,"  she  murmured,  "  let  him  rage 
and  call  down  curses.  .  .  .  To  drive  my  Clytie  to 
this !  How  she  must  have  suffered !  But,  by  Hera, 
he  shall  hear  the  truth." 

She  was  already  on  her  way  to  her  chamber,  when 
she  paused. 

"  What  am  I  doing !"  she  exclaimed.  "  The  first 
thing  is  to  conceal  Clytie's  flight.  No  one  must  sus- 
pect that  her  room  is  empty." 

Calling  Eunoa,  the  oldest  female  slave  in  the  house, 


170  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

she  said  to  her :  "  Clytie  is  ill.  Sit  down  here  outside 
of  her  door  and  let  no  one  enter,  not  even  her  nurse. 
Do  exactly  as  I  tell  you." 

Eunoa  opened  her  eyes  in  astonishment ;  she  had 
never  heard  her  mistress  speak  in  so  curt  and  imperi- 
ous a  tone. 

When  Maira  entered  her  bed-room,  there  was  a 
certain  solemnity  in  her  manner  that  attracted  Xen- 
ocles'  attention.  Stretching  himself  on  the  couch,  he 
beckoned  to  her. 

But,  instead  of  taking  her  seat  on  the  edge,  Maira 
remained  standing  before  him,  gazing  steadily  into  his 
face.  Xenocles  scarcely  believed  his  eyes.  It  was  the 
first  time  during  the  twenty  years  of  their  married  Hfe 
that  his  wife  had  not  instantly  done  whatever  he  re- 
quested. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  repeated,  again  pointing  to  the 
seat. 

Maira  did  not  seem  to  hear. 

"  I  have  evil  tidings,"  she  said  coldly.  "  A  mis- 
fortune has  happened  to  us  during  the  night." 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ?"  cried  the  excitable  little 
man,  and  pointing  to  the  strip  of  papyrus  she  held  in 
her  hand,  he  asked  :  "  Is  this  the  misfortune  ?" 

"  It  is  from  Clytie,"  replied  Maira,  and  read  the 
contents  in  a  tone  which  seemed  to  imply  that  the 
matter  was  no  concern  of  hers. 

At  the  words :  "  Forgive  me,  I  must  fly,"  Xenocles 
started  and,  with  a  stiff  movement,  as  though  both  his 
limbs  had  suddenly  become  one,  he  swung  himself  up 


THE    HETAERIA.  I71 

from  his  reclining  posture  and  put  his  feet  on  the  floor 
so  that  he  sat  erect  on  the  couch.  He  seemed  to  have 
been  struck  speechless,  and  his  hands  fumbled  with  his 
belt,  which  he  had  not  yet  buckled. 

He  was  thinking  of  Clytie's  childhood,  of  her 
pretty,  gentle  face,  her  innocent  caresses.  His  eyes 
filled  with  tears  —  he  could  not  believe  that  she  had 
gone. 

Maira  was  a  good  wife  and  loved  her  husband  ten- 
derly; but  she  was  not  more  generous  than  the  ma- 
jority of  the  female  sex.  Deeply  as  Xenocles  was 
moved,  it  did  not  occur  to  her  to  spare  him.  All  that 
she  had  silently  endured  for  years  must  be  uttered. 

"  Now  we  have  no  daughter,"  she  .said,  as  a  sort  of 
preamble. 

Xenocles  was  silent,  the  muscles  around  his  mouth 
twitched  convulsively. 

A  pause  ensued.  At  that  early  hour  of  the  morn- 
ing the  house  was  so  still  that  the  flies  were  heard  buz- 
zing in  the  sunshine  on  the  rush  carpet  inside  the  door. 

"  It  would  have  been  better,"  Maira  continued,  "  if 
you  had  not  always  had  your  head  filled  with  your 
plans  and  measurements  for  buildings.  Whole  days 
passed  without  your  saying  a  word  to  Clytie  or  me, 
and  if  I  spoke  to  you  about  anything  that  disturbed 
you,  I  was  so  harshly  rebuffed  that  I  often  dared  not 
address  you.  Doris  the  slave-girl  knew  ten  times  as 
much  about  Clytie's  affairs.  By  Adrasteia,  it's  an  easy 
matter  to  be  a  father,  if  a  man  considers  it  enough  to 
give  his  daughter  home  and  clothes  and  food.     But,  if 


172  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

you  had  had  any  love  for  your  child,  had  you  suspected 
what  she  hoped  and  longed  for,  had  you  known  what 
she  feared  more  than  death  —  this  misfortune  would 
not  have  befallen  us." 

Xenocles  gazed  at  Maira  as  though  she  were  a 
stranger.  He  understood  that  it  was  maternal  affec- 
tion which  made  her  so  strong,  and  at  the  same  time 
dimly  felt  that  perhaps  he  had  some  reason  to  reproach 
himself. 

He  bent  his  head. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?"  he  murmured.  "Tell  me, 
Maira.     You  have  always  been  a  good  wife  to  me." 

At  these  simple  words  all  Maira's  wrath  vanished. 
She  involuntarily  sat  down  beside  her  husband  and,  as 
their  eyes  met,  she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
kissed  him. 

"  First,"  she  whispered,  "  we  must  conceal  Clytie's 
■flight.  Then  you  must  —  better  now  than  later  —  go 
to  Acestor  and  tell  him  that  Clytie  is  ill  and  the  wed- 
ding must  be  postponed.  You  can  say  she  is  deHrious 
and  no  one  is  allowed  to  see  her." 

Xenocles  rose. 

"  It  will  be  a  hard  task,"  he  said. 

Fortunately  Acestor's  house  stood  in  the  Melitan 
quarter  so  Xenocles,  while  on  his  way  to  it,  had  time 
to  clear  his  brain. 

As  he  had  feared,  he  found  the  slaves  in  the  act  of 
decorating  the  building  with  garlands  and  green 
branches. 


THE    HETAERIA.  1/5 

''  Take  all  this  down !"  said  the  impetuous  little 
man.     "  The  bride  is  ill.     There  will  be  no  wedding." 

The  door-keeper,  who  was  standing  at  the  half- 
open  door  watching  the  slaves,  heard  these  words  and 
hurrying  to  his  master,  repeated  them  while  announ- 
cing the  visitor. 

Xenocles  was  not  a  man  to  stand  waiting  at  an 
open  door,  especially  in  the  house  of  his  future  son-in- 
law.  He  followed  close  behind,  but  while  crossing  the 
peristyle  he  started  at  the  sound  of  a  blow,  and  dis- 
tinctly heard  the  words : 

"  Take  that,  bird  of  misfortune,  for  your  evil  tid- 
ings." 

Acestor  received  Xenocles  with  a  sullen  face  and 
frowning  brow. 

"  Is  what  this  blockhead  says  true  ?"  he  asked, 
without  letting  Xenocles  have  time  to  speak. 

"  The  gods  have  given  me  a  bitter  cup  to  drain," 
replied  the  little  man  with  dignity.  "  My  daughter 
has  had  a  sudden  attack  of  illness.  .  She  is  dehrious, 
and  no  one  is  permitted  to  see  her.  The  wedding 
must  be  deferred." 

Acestor  made  no  reply,  but  stared  angrily  into 
vacancy. 

"  Strange !"  he  muttered,  "  A  bride  who  falls  ill  on 
her  wedding  day  —  who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing? 
By  Zeus,  this  or  something  else  seems  to  me  a  bad 
omen.  Do  not  forget  that  you  owe  me  compensation 
and,  by  the  gods,  a  double  one.  In  the  first  place  the 
girl  is  beautiful  enough  for  many  to  desire  to  wed  her, 


174  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

even  without  a  dowry,  and  secondly  I  had  calculated 
on  the  amount  agreed  upon  as  a  sum  of  which  I 
was  sure." 

"  I  will  think  of  it,"  replied  Xenocles  coldly,  and 
went  away  even  more  displeased  with  Acestor  than 
with  himself. 

On  the  walk  home  he  recalled  the  events  of  the 
morning  and,  as  Clytie's  flight,  Maira's  reproaches,  and 
Acestor's  greed  passed  through  his  mind,  he  sighed 
heavily  and  exclaimed : 

"  The  gods  know  where  all  this  will  end." 


XX. 


Two  days  after  the  hetaeria  assembled  at  Lamon's 
home.  The  house,  where  for  many  generations  a  large 
bleaching  business  had  been  carried  on,  stood  on  the 
side  of  the  Museium.  All  the  water  used  was  labori- 
ously drawn  up  by  slaves  or  beasts  of  burden ;  but  on 
the  other  hand  the  dust  of  the  city  did  not  rise  here,  so 
the  cloth  could  be  dried  in  the  open  air,  and  moreover 
there  was  no  trouble  with  road-inspectors  on  account 
of  the  waste-water.  It  ran  down  the  hill-side  un- 
heeded. 

To  reach  the  door,  customers  from  the  lower  part 
of  the  city  were  obliged  to  pass  around  the  longest 
wing  of  the  house ;  this  inconvenience  had  been  en- 
dured  for   many    generations.     They    followed,    as   it 


THE    HETAERIA. 


175 


were,  the  customs  of  their  forefathers  and  the  idea  of 
change  did  not  occur  to  them. 

But  Lamon  had  understood  how  to  help  himself. 
By  the  side  of  the  bleaching  -  room  was  one  for 
hanging  clothes  which  looked  out  upon  the  lower 
part  of  the  city  and  this,  for  his  customers'  con- 
venience, he  had  transformed  into  an  open  shop,  by 
first  replacing  the  outer  wall  by  a  few  pillars  and  then 
having  a  marble-topped  counter  built  across  the  stone 
floor.  On  this  customers  laid  their  bundles  and  from 
it  was  delivered  the  finished  work  which,  furnished 
with  the  owner's  mark,  hung  on  the  wall  inside.  In 
the  evening  the  place  of  the  outer  wall  was  supplied 
by  a  curtain,  and  at  night  with  a  grating  reaching  from 
roof  to  floor. 

In  this  room,  next  in  size  to  the  workshop,  the 
secret  society  had  assembled.  It  was  late  in  the  even- 
ing, and  at  each  end  of  the  counter  lamps  were  burn- 
ing on  tall  brass  tripods.  The  green  curtain  between 
the  pillars  was  drawn,  and  closed  the  apartment  like  a 
Avail, 

Business  discussions  had  not  yet  commenced ; 
Thuphrastos  and  Hipyllos  were  talking  about  armor 
and  weapons.  Xenocles  had  several  times  given  signs 
of  impatience,  till  at  last  Sthenelus  laughed,  saying : 

"  Let  the  weapons  rest !  Xenocles  has  something 
to  tell  and,  it  seems  to  me,  something  important." 

"Yes,  by  Zeus,  I  have!"  cried  the  eager  little  man 
and,  glancing  cautiously  around  him  in  every  direction, 
he  whispered  :  "  I  fear  we  are  betrayed." 


176  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Acestor  started  from  his  couch. 

"  Betrayed  ?"  he  repeated  with  evident  anxiety. 

Xenocles  looked  enquiringly  at  Sthenelus,  who 
nodded  assent. 

"  I  was  talking  with  Sthenelus  this  morning  at  the 
market,"  the  little  white-haired  man  continued.  "  We 
were  standing  in  front  of  the  arcade  of  Zeus  the  Lib- 
erator and,  when  we  parted  Sthenelus  called  after  me  : 
*  You  know  we  meet  this  evening  at  Lamon's.'  The 
words  were  spoken  by  the  statue  of  Zeus  the  Liberator. 
As  I  turned  to  go,  Sthenelus  pointed  to  the  ground. 
A  little  round  shadow,  like  a  man's  head,  appeared  in 
the  great  one  cast  by  the  pedestal.  Urged  by  the 
same  fear,  we  both  hurried  behind  the  statue  and  saw 
a  thin  man  with  tangled  hair  walking  rapidly  away. 
He  was  scarcely  ten  paces  from  us." 

"  Who  was  the  man  ?"  asked  Acestor  breathlessly. 

"  Cephisodemos." 

"  One  of  the  most  dangerous  informers." 

"  It's  all  over  with  us  !"  murmured  Lysiteles  rising. 

Drops  of  perspiration  stood  on  Acestor's  brow; 
nevertheless  he  strove  to  appear  calm,  and  proposed 
that  the  meeting  should  break  up  and  each  person  go 
to  his  own  home. 

Thuphrastos  took  a  different  view  of  the  matter. 
He  wanted  to  judge  for  himself,  and  therefore  asked 
one  question  after  another.  Had  the  market  echoed 
with  shouts  and  cries  or  was  the  time  for  buying  and 
selling  over  ?  How  far  from  the  statue  were  the 
.speakers  standing  ?     He  put  these  and  several  more 


THE    HETAERIA.  I  77 

questions,  then  when  he  had  learned  what  he  wished 
to  know  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  saying : 

"  No  one  can  judge  with  certainty  whether  the  spy 
heard  anything  or  not,  but  an  empty  fear  ought  not  to 
put  men  to  flight.  Let  us  go  on  as  though  nothing 
had  happened." 

There  was  such  perfect  calmness  in  Thuphrastos' 
manner  that  it  communicated  itself  to  the  others. 
Only  Acestor  and  Lysiteles  seemed  undecided  for  a 
moment;  but,  when  the  others  remained,  they  were 
ashamed  to  go  and  stayed  also. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  Acestor  had  had  some  great 
plan  in  view.  He  was  clad  in  all  the  splendor  with 
which  he  appeared  in  the  popular  assemblies ;  his  long, 
carefully  arranged  hair  was  perfumed,  he  had  donned 
a  dazzlingly  white  chiton,  adorned  around  the  neck  and 
at  the  bottom  with  an  embroidered  blue  border,  and 
on  the  fore-finger  of  his  right  hand  he  wore  a  large  seal 
ring. 


XXI. 

Acestor  did  not  instantly  commence  what  he  had 
to  say.  Calmness  must  first  be  restored  to  the  minds 
of  the  assembly  so,  glancing  with  a  smile  around  the 
circle,  he  began  in  a  tone  intended  to  command  atten- 
tion. 

"  Is  it  not  true,  oh  !  my  friends,  that  you  would  be 


17S  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

greatly  amazed  if  I  said :  '  You  have  never  seen 
Athens.' " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  exclaimed  Xenocles,  who 
was  always  too  impatient  to  hke  riddles. 

"  You  know,"  Acestor  continued,  "  that  some  faces, 
to  appear  beautiful,  should  be  seen  from  the  front, 
others  from  the  side.  That  is  the  way  with  cities  — 
some  should  be  seen  from  the  sea,  others  from  the 
land " 

"  And  whence  shall  Athens  be  seen  ?"  asked  Xeno- 
cles, to  whom  this  introduction  seemed  too  long. 

"  By  Zeus,  from  this  spot." 

Lamon  smiled. 

"  Why  yes,"  he  said,  "  Pythocleides  from  Ceos, 
Pericles'  first  teacher  in  the  arts  of  the  Muses,  came 
here  in  his  old  age.  He  was  perfectly  bewitched  by 
the  view  of  the  city,  and  used  to  say  afterwards :  '  No 
one  has  seen  Athens  save  he  who  has  beheld  it  from 
Lamon's  house  on  the  Museium.'  " 

"Well  then,  show  us  Athens!"  cried  Sthenelus. 
"  By  Pan,  you  have  made  me  very  curious  though, 
having  been  born  in  the  Street  of  the  Sculptors,  I 
thought  I  knew  the  city." 

Lamon  made  a  sign  to  Acestor  and  the  two  men, 
each  from  his  own  side,  drew  the  green  curtain  apart 
between  the  pillars. 

The  first  impression  was  so  overpowering  that  no 
one  found  words  to  praise  it.  Beyond  the  dark  frame 
formed  by  the  roof,  pillars,  and  floor  of  the  apartment 
the  whole  space  was  filled  with  a  subdued  light,  like  a 


THE    HETAERIA.  I  79 

bluish  mist.  The  moon  itself  was  not  visible;  it  was 
obliquely  behind  the  house.  The  transition  from  the 
lamp-light  had  been  so  sudden  that  at  first  the  group 
could  see  nothing;  but  scarcely  had  the  tripods  with 
the  lamps  been  moved  farther  back  ere  the  outlines  of 
stately  houses  and  the  dark  tops  of  trees  began  to  ap- 
pear. 

In  front  of  the  house,  towards  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
was  a  stone  balustrade,  on  which  stood  vases  contain- 
ing large-leaved  plants.  Behind  these,  far  down  in  the 
valley,  were  seen  like  a  forest  the  wide-stretching  kepoi 
or  gardens,  amid  whose  dark  poplars  and  cypresses 
shone  here  and  there  a  curve  of  the  Ilissus,  glittering 
like  molten  silver.  Not  far  from  the  foot  of  the  hill 
spread  the  low  Limnae  with  its  labyrinth  of  buildings, 
and  the  ancient  sanctuary  of  Dionysus,  which  seemed 
buried  in  the  shadows  of  the  night.  Farther  away  red 
specks  of  light  gleamed  through  the  dusk ;  they  moved 
very  slowly,  meeting,  crossing,  and  moving  away  from 
each  other  —  they  were  the  torches  carried  by  pedes- 
trians along  the  way  leading  from  the  citadel  to  the 
market.  Beyond  this  tract  the  ground  rose  in  three  or 
four  lofty  undulations,  on  whose  crests  appeared  houses 
and  trees,  among  the  latter  single  palms,  but  distant 
and  small,  like  delicately  carved  toys.  Between  the 
largest  of  these  hills  the  flat  top  and  steep  sides  of  the 
Acropolis  towered  dark  and  frowning  into  the  air. 
Close  against  the  cliff,  as  if  comparing  itself  with  it, 
stood  the  vast  Theatre  of  Dionysus,  over  whose  en- 
circling wall  the  eye  pierced  the  dark  gulf  formed  by 


l8o  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

the  steeply-rising  seats.  But  on  the  summit,  towering 
over  the  low  Limnae,  glimmered  the  white  marble 
temple,  with  its  delicate,  shadowy  rows  of  columns, 
above  which  again  rose  the  colossal  statue  of  the 
patron  goddess  of  Athens,  visible  for  miles  away,  as  in 
motionless  grandeur  it  seemed  to  both  rule  and  watch. 

A  strangely  sublime  impress  rested  upon  this  whole 
landscape,  where  the  gods  had  once  wandered  and 
where,  so  to  speak,  each  spot  was  sacred.  Upon  the 
height  Pallas  Athene  had  planted  the  olive-tree  sacred 
to  her,  and  yonder,  by  the  shore  of  the  Ilissus,  almost 
on  the  very  spot  where  his  altar  stood,  Boreas  had 
borne  away  the  Princess  Oreithyia.  Sometimes  a  cool 
evening  breeze,  following  the  course  of  the  stream, 
swept  through  the  valley.  A  distant,  confused  sound, 
the  breathing  of  the  half  slumbering  city,  then  reached 
the  ear;  but  when  the  wind  died  away  everything  was 
still,  and  houses,  trees,  and  mountains,  steeped  in  the 
melancholy  lustre  of  the  moonbeams,  once  more  rose 
before  the  eyes  in  majestic  silence. 

"  Magnificent !  Marvellous !"  exclaimed  little  Xen- 
ocles,  extending  his  arms  towards  the  city  as  though 
he  would  fain  embrace  it. 

"  Friends,"  said  Acestor,  but  paused  while  his 
glance  wandered  around  the  room  as  though  in  search 
of  something. 

Sthenelus'  eyes  twinkled;  he  knew  all  Acestor's 
tricks  of  art. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  Acestor  wants  the  bema.*     But 

*  Orator's  stage. 


THE    HETAERIA.  l8l 

if  you  are  willing,  Lamon,  surely  he  can  speak  from  the 
marble  counter." 

Lamon,  who  was  again  drawing  the  green  curtain 
between  the  pillars,  made  a  sign  of  assent. 

Sthenelus,  spite  of  his  lameness,  dragged  a  bench 
up  to  the  counter. 

"  The  bema  is  ready,"  he  said,  offering  Acestor  his 
hand. 

The  latter  took  it,  and  stepped  clumsily  upon  the 
bench  and  from  the  bench  to  the  counter.  He  was 
apparently  no  adept  in  physical  exercises  and,  when  he 
visited  the  gymnasia,  doubtless  did  so  only  to  meet 
orators  and  poets  in  the  arcades. 

After  having  thrown  back  his  head  and  shut  his 
eyes  to  collect  his  thoughts,  he  extended  both  hands. 

"  Friends,"  he  said,  and  his  powerful  voice  filled  the 
room  so  that  it  gave  back  a  resonant  echo,  "  what  the 
eye-ball  is  to  the  eye,  Athens  is  to  Hellas.  As  an  ora- 
tor and  teacher  of  the  art  of  oratory,  I  have  travelled 
through  many  lands  and  visited  many  cities.  I  don't 
say  this  to  pride  myself  upon  it,  but  to  show  that  I  am 
competent  to  judge.  I  have  seen  what  great  cities  are, 
and  how  they  are  governed.  Now  I  say  to  you : 
Athens  is  going  to  her  destruction  !  If  I  —  which  per- 
haps I  am  not  quite  unworthy  to  do  —  stood  at  the 
head  of  public  affairs,  I  should  know  well  what  was 
needed.     Then,  like  a  second  Pericles. 

At  this  comparison  Thuphrastos  knit  his  brows; 
the  blood  rushed  to  his  brain  and,  clenching  his  hands, 
he  rose  from  the  couch.     Every  one  was  aware  that  he 


152  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

had  known  Pericles  and  admired  him  with  his  whole 
soul. 

There  was  perfect  silence  in  the  room.  All  eyes 
rested  on  Thuphrastos,  who  walked  straight  to  the 
counter,  seized  Acestor  by  his  bare  leg,  and  shook  him, 
saying : 

"  Come  to  your  senses,  Sacas !  You  forget  how 
wide  is  the  gulf  between  you  and  a  Pericles." 

At  the  slave  name  of  Sacas  Acestor  sprung  heavily 
down  on  the  tiled  floor.  He  was  deadly  pale,  his  eyes 
sparkled  with  a  fierce,  gloomy  light,  and  he  raised  his 
hand  to  deal  a  blow. 

Thuphrastos  did  not  make  the  slightest  movement 
to  parry  it ;  folding  his  arms  across  his  chest,  he  held 
his  furious  antagonist  in  check  with  his  cold  glance,  as 
though  he  had  been  a  vicious  dog.  For  a  moment 
the  two  men  stood  motionless,  gazing  into  each  other's 
faces,  then  they  felt  a  grasp  on  the  arm  that  seemed 
like  an  iron  band. 

"  No  quarrelling !"  said  Lamon's  deep  voice  and, 
as  the  simplest  way  of  restoring  peace,  he  seized  Aces- 
tor round  the  loins  and  lifted  him  on  the  counter  as 
easily  as  if  he  had  been  a  child.  "  Talk  on  !"  he  added 
curtly,  and  returned  to  his  seat  without  looking  at  him 
as  though  it  was  a  matter  of  course  that  he  should  be 
obeyed. 

Acestor  passed  his  hand  across  his  brow  several 
times,  and  it  was  long  ere  he  could  control  his  voice. 

"  If  we  desire  to  save  Athens,"  he  at  last  resumed, 
"  we  must   manage  to  have  the   friends  of  the  rulers 


THE    HETAERIA.  183 

kept  away  from  the  popular  assemblies.  Then  it  will 
not  be  difficult  to  destroy  them ;  for  they  have  many 
foes. 

Lamon  and  Sthenelus  uttered  a  murmur  of  disap- 
proval. 

It  was  a  special  agreement  that  the  hetaeria 
should  labor  only  for  the  advantage  of  fellow  members, 
and  not  meddle  in  affairs  of  state.  After  exchanging 
glances  with  Hipyllos,  Thuphrastos,  to  the  surprise  of 
every  one,  made  a  gesture  as  if  he  were  not  yet  weary 
of  hearing  what  Acestor  had  to  say.  Still,  the  latter 
felt  that  his  listeners  were  not  in  harmony  with  him; 
he  paused  abruptly,  as  if  his  thoughts  were  eluding 
him,  and  then  added,  raising  his  voice  louder  and 
louder  as  though  trying  to  deafen  himself  with  his  own 
words : 

"  Charicles  and  Aristocrates  ought  to  resign  their 
offices,  Peisandros  must  be  banished  and  Phanos,  who 
has  made  so  many  citizens  wretched  by  his  pursuit  of 
the  hetaeriae,  shotild  not  only  forfeit  his  position  as 
clerk,  but  have  erected  in  some  conspicuous  place  a 
pillar  of  infamy  bearing  his  name. 

Here  Acestor  suddenly  stopped  and  stared  with 
dilated  eyes  at  the  curtain  between  the  pillars,  as 
though  he  had  beheld  through  an  opening  all  the  hor- 
rors of  Hades.  Without  adding  another  word,  he 
jumped  down  from  the  counter  and  pointed  with  trem- 
bling hand  to  the  threshold  between  the  columns. 

All  followed  the  direction  of  his  eyes. 

Under  the  green  curtain  was  seen  on  each  side  a 


184  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

pair  of  feet.  The  sight  of  these  motionless  feet  aroused 
an  indescribable  excitement  among  the  men.  At  first 
no  one  believed  his  eyes;  then  all  rose  from  their 
couches.  It  was  so  still  that,  for  the  first  time  in  the 
course  of  the  evening,  the  water  was  heard  trickling 
in  the  fulling-room  adjoining. 

"  Dunces  of  slaves !"  muttered  Lamon,  shaking  his 
clenched  hand  towards  the  interior  of  the  house. 
"  You  have  forgotten  the  garden.  They  have  come 
upon  us  from  the  hill." 

Hipyllos  exchanged  a  significant  glance  with  Thu- 
phrastos  and,  pointing  to  Acestor,  said  in  a  very  low 
tone: 

"  It  has  turned  out  differently  from  what  we  ex- 
pected.    The  jest  has  become  earnest." 


XXII. 

Scarcely  had  the  sudden  silence  warned  those 
standing  outside  that  they  were  discovered,  when  the 
curtain  was  drawn  back. 

The  clerk  Phanos,  the  persecutor  of  the  hetaeriae, 
entered  the  room,  while  his  companion,  a  subaltern 
officer  of  the  city  police,  remained  standing  at  the  en- 
trance. 

"The  house  is  surrounded!"  cried  the  latter  in  a 
loud  voice.     "  No  one  can  escape." 

With  these  words  he  pulled  the  curtain  farther  aside 


THE    HETAERIA.  185 

and  beyond  it  appeared,  like  a  living  wall,  the  dark 
figures  of  the  toxoternae  or  bowmen,  whose  helmets, 
spears,  and  shields  flashed  in  the  torchlight. 

All  eyes  were  fixed  on  Phanos,  a  small,  stout  man, 
with  a  pale,  handsome  face.  A  lock  of  black  hair 
hung  low  on  his  forehead,  but  the  most  remarkable 
thing  about  him  was  his  eyes  —  a  pair  of  clear,  light- 
blue  eyes,  sparkling  with  intelligence,  whose  gaze  was 
doubly  piercing  because  he  bent  his  head  a  little  and 
looked  out  from  under  his  eye-brows.  It  was  evident 
that  those  eyes  forgot  no  one,  and  that  each  person 
on  whom  they  rested  might  as  well  have  been  recorded 
in  a  book.  He  wore  a  plain  white  robe,  entirely  with- 
out ornament,  and  had  thrown  a  brown  mantle  around 
him. 

At  sight  of  Phanos  Acestor  made  a  movement  as 
though  he  were  about  to  escape  through  the  peristyle. 
"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  whispered  Thuphrastos. 
"  You  will  run  directly  into  the  arms  of  the  archers. 
No,  hide,  hide!  —  Phanos  has  heard  every  word." 

"  In  there !"  added  Xenocles  hastily,  pointing  to 
the  door  of  the  bleaching-room.  "  He  hasn't  seen  you 
yet.     Perhaps  you  will  be  forgotten." 

Acestor  crept  behind  the  counter  and  stole  like  a 
thief  into  the  bleaching-room,  closing  the  door  carefully 
behind  him. 

It  was  quite  time.  Half  a  score  of  the  slaves  of 
the  city  police  pressed  in  from  the  peristyle  and 
watched  every  exit,  among  them  the  door  through 
which  Acestor  had  slipped. 


l86  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

While  this  was  happening  Phanos  had  gazed 
sternly  around  him,  but  at  the  sight  of  Thuphrastos 
and  Xenocles  his  face  brightened.  Approaching  La- 
mon,  the  owner  of  the  house,  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Lamon,"  he  said,  in  so  loud  a  tone  that  the  offi- 
cer and  slaves  could  hear,  "  it  is  fortunate  for  you  that 
I  meet  men  like  Thuphrastos  and  Xenocles  here.  I 
know  them  —  they  are  plotting  no  evil.  Your  het- 
aeria  does  not  seem  to  be  of  the  sort  we  so  rigidly 
pursue.  You  are  office-seekers,  not  men  striving  to 
usurp  the  government.  I  have  now  seen  with  my  own 
eyes.  .  .  .  Yet  —  did  I  not  hear  a  chatterer  shrieking 
among  you?  He  has  shouted  intolerably  long;  I'll 
close  his  lips." 

"  If  you  heard  that,"  replied  Lamon,  "  you  must 
have  heard  our  disapproval." 

"  Well  then,"  continued  Phanos,  "  speak  frankly. 
To  what  places  do  you  want  to  be  elected  ?" 

Lamon  —  and  then  the  others  —  obeyed  the  com- 
mand without  hesitation. 

"  Very  well !"  Phanos  then  continued,  "  promise  to 
break  up  the  hetaeria,  and  you  shall  lose  nothing. 
The  places  of  which  we  dispose  are  not  dependent 
upon  election,  but  are  appointments.  But  there  must 
be  no  more  meetings  of  the  hetaeria.  If,  in  spite  of 
your  promise,  you  secretly  assemble,  woe  betide  you ! 
No  punishment  will  be  too  severe  for  us." 

Without  bending  an  inch,  or  condescending  to  flat- 
tery, Thuphrastos  thanked  the  clerk  for  his  considera- 
tion and,  after  having  exchanged  glances  with  Lamon 


THE    HETAERIA.  187 

and  the  others,  promised,  in  the  name  of  himself  and 
his  friends,  to  disband  the  hetaeria. 

Phanos  now  turned  towards  Hipyllos,  the  youngest 
of  the  group. 

"  Bring  me  that  shrieker,"  he  said  to  him,  "  the 
only  one  of  you  who  fled."  And,  with  a  smile  that 
showed  he  had  noticed  everything,  he  pointed  to  the 
door  of  the  bleaching-room  and  added,  "  You'll  find 
him  in  there." 

No  command  could  have  been  more  welcome  to 
Hipyllos.  His  heart  throbbed  with  joyous  anticipa- 
tion;  he  had  a  presentiment  that  he  was  near  his  aim. 


xxni. 

The  sentinel  at  the  door  made  way  at  a  sign  from 
Phanos,  and  Hipyllos  hurried  into  the  bleaching-room. 

A  suffocating  odor  of  sulphur,  mingled  with  a  hor- 
rible smell  of  urine  and  soap,  greeted  him.  A  copper 
lamp  was  burning  on  a  tripod  placed  near  the  wall,  and 
he  scanned  the  whole  apartment  with  a  single  glance. 
At  the  back  were  five  recesses  in  the  wall  containing 
reservoirs  of  water,  where  lay  soaking  the  material  to 
be  stamped  by  the  slaves  on  the  morrow.  In  the 
middle  of  the  workshop  stood  a  large  stone  table,  on 
which  lay  some  batlets.  On  the  left,  over  a  pole  under 
the  ceiling,  hung  a  purple  robe,  in  whose  lower  folded 
part  was  flung  an  iron  teasel.  Behind  this  article  of 
clothing  one  could  see  the  drying-room,  where  Hip- 


ISO  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

yllos  noticed  hundreds  of  garments  hanging  on  long 
poles.  He  was  going  to  creep  under  them,  when  he 
heard  a  smothered  sound  from  the  opposite  direction. 
Here,  ranged  along  the  wall,  stood  a  number  of  wicker 
baskets,  the  height  of  a  man,  which  resembled  hen- 
coops. Clothes  were  spread  over  five  or  six  where,  as 
the  vapor  in  the  room  showed,  sulphur  had  been  re- 
cently lighted  to  give  them  the  requisite  whiteness. 
From  one  of  the  centre  ones  issued  a  strange  stifled 
moaning. 

"  I  have  him !"  murmured  Hipyllos  smiling,  as  he 
took  hold  of  the  handle  on  top  shaped  like  an  owl,  the 
sacred  bird  of  Athens.  When  he  had  removed  the 
basket,  Acestor  sat  crouching  before  him  with  half- 
closed  eyes,  panting  and  groaning,  almost  fainting. 
The  sulphur  under  the  clothes  had  nearly  smothered 
him,  and  Hipyllos  found  it  diflicult  to  lift  him  upon  his 
legs. 

But  how  entirely  transformed  was  the  stately  Aces- 
tor !  A  couple  of  small  metal  jars  filled  with  powdered 
sulphur  had  been  placed  under  the  basket,  ready  for  the 
next  day's  bleaching.  In  his  confusion  and  terror 
Acestor  had  overturned  them  and,  as  he  had  after- 
wards pressed  his  hands  on  his  head,  he  had  filled  his 
hair,  eye-brows,  and  beard  with  sulphur,  besides  yellow 
spots  on  his  nose,  forehead,  and  cheeks.  He  had  no 
sooner  taken  a  few  long  breaths  when  he  began  to 
sneeze  as  though  his  head  would  burst.  He  seemed  to 
be  completely  stupefied ;  his  limbs  tottered  under  him 
and  he  allowed  himself  to  be  led  like  a  child. 


THE    HETAERIA.  189 

Without  wasting  a  word  upon  him,  Hipyllos 
brought  him  before  the  waiting  group. 

At  sight  of  this  pitiful  figure  all  burst  into  a  shout 
of  laughter;  even  the  slaves  mounting  guard  laughed 
till  the  spears  shook  in  their  hands. 

"  Why,  why,"  said  Phanos,  "  is  this  the  hero  who 
banishes  officials  and  erects  pillars  of  infamy  ?  Who 
would  believe  it  ?     Does  he  look  like  a  murderer  ?" 

A  fresh  burst  of  laughter  greeted  the  words. 

"But  —  dangerous  or  not,"  Phanos  continued,  "he 
lias  committed  a  crime  and  deserves  punishment." 

"  What  has  he  done  ?"  asked  Xenocles. 

"  He  is  a  spurious  citizen.  His  father's  name  can- 
not be  found  in  the  temple  of  Apollo  Patrous." 

Acestor  raised  his  head  and  fixed  his  eyes  on 
Phanos  with  a  venomous  glance. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  he  said.  "  It  can  be  found 
there." 

"  Where  ?" 

"  By  the  side  oi your  father's  name." 

Phanos  recoiled  a  step  as  though  struck  by  an  in- 
visible shaft;  but  the  next  moment  the  veins  in  his 
temples  swelled,  and  his  eyes  flashed. 

"  Wretch  !"  he  exclaimed,  his  lips  quivering  with  in- 
dignation. "  My  father's  name  is  not  to  be  found  in 
the  temple  —  he  was,  as  every  one  knows,  a  freedman. 
Nevertheless,  my  right  to  citizenship  is  a  legal  one,  be- 
stowed for  services  rendered  to  the  state.  Note  this, 
Gobryas,  son  of  Tisamenos." 

These  words  fell  upon  Acestor  like  a  thunder-bolt. 


IQO  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

At  hearing  his  name,  his  real  name,  which  he  had  be- 
lieved concealed  from  every  one,  he  perceived  that  all 
was  discovered. 

Throwing  himself  at  Phanos'  feet,  he  raised  his 
arms  submissively. 

"  Mercy  !"  he  murmured,  "  mercy  !" 

"  Do  you  know  the  dungeons  in  the  cliff?"  asked 
Phanos  sternly. 

Acestor  made  a  sign  of  assent. 

"  Well !  Sthenelus  can  tell  you  what  rumor  says  of 
them." 

Merry  Sthenelus  limped  a  few  steps  nearer,  cleared 
his  throat,  and  answered  in  a  sepulchral  voice : 

"  Rumor  says  that  prisoners  walk  into  them,  but 
are  carried  out,  feet  foremost." 

Acestor  kissed  the  edge  of  Phanos'  robe. 

"  Mercy !"  he  cried.  "  Mercy !  Forgive  my  evil 
speech." 

"  Spare  him,"  said  Xenocles. 

"  Let  him  run,"  added  Thuphrastos. 

"  Well  then,"  replied  Phanos,  "  you  boasted  of  your 
travels,  Acestor.  You  must  journey  farther  still.  If 
you  don't  want  to  have  your  hair  clipped  and  become 
a  slave  for  having  your  name  spuriously  inserted  on  the 
citizens'  list,  you  must  leave  Athens  before  to-morrow 
noon." 

Acestor  bowed  his  head  under  Phanos'  hand  in 
token  of  submission. 

"  Milon  !"  shouted  Phanos. 


THE    HETAERIA.  I9I 

The  officer  of  the  city-watch,  who  was  still  mount- 
ing guard  inside  the  curtain,  came  forward. 

"  Follow  this  man,"  said  Phanos,  pointing  to  Aces- 
tor,  "  and  don't  lose  sight  of  him.  When  he  has 
quitted  Athens,  report  to  me." 

Milon  grasped  Acestor's  arm  and  went  away  with 
him. 

Xenocles  gazed  after  them. 

"  By  Zeus !"  he  exclaimed,  "  believe  me  or  not  as 
you  choose,  but  I've  always  had  a  presentiment  that 
the  eagle  might  become  a  crow." 

"  And  I,"  replied  Thuphrastos,  "  have  always  seen 
the  crow,  never  the  eagle." 

When,  soon  after,  the  house  was  cleared  of  the  city- 
watch,  the  friends  looked  at  each  other  a  moment  in 
silence. 

"  Who  has  done  this  ?"  asked  Lamon. 

Thuphrastos  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Is  there  any  way  of  knowing  who  has  denounced 
an  hetaeria  ?"  he  muttered. 

*'  It  was  probably  Megas,"  whispered  Lysiteles  in 
his  faint,  cracked  voice. 

"  No,"  replied  Sthenelus  positively,  "  had  it  been 
he,  by  Zeus,  he  would  have  been  with  them.  Megas 
would  have  wanted  to  enjoy  the  sight  of  our  faces 
when  we  were  surprised.  No,  it  was  not  he.  I  think 
it  was  Cephidosemos,  who  watched  Xenocles  and  myself 
from  behind  the  column.  As  an  informer  he  is  afraid 
of  drawing  hatred  on  his  head,  so  he  keeps  away." 


192  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

Thuphrastos  passed  his  hand  thoughtfully  over  his 
be^rd. 

"  What  offices  can  Phanos  bestow  upon  us  ?"  he 
asked. 

"I  have  heard,"  answered  Lamon,  "that  a  tax-col- 
lector is  to  be  sent  to  some  of  the  rebellious  cities.  He 
will  have  hundreds  of  soldiers  with  him.  It  would  not 
surprise  me,  Thuphrastos,  if  you  should  be  appointed 
to  that  office." 

"  Well !"  exclaimed  the  old  captain,  "  I  shall  rely 
on  Phanos'  words.     He  never  forgets." 

"We  will  all  trust  him!"  echoed  the  group  in 
chorus. 

"  But,"  continued  Thuphrastos,  turning  to  Xen- 
ocles,  "  however  we  may  fare,  there  is  one  person  who 
will  lose.  .  .  ." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  By  Zeus,  your  daughter !  Was  she  not  betrothed 
to  Acestor,  and  was  not  the  wedding  to  have  taken 
place  this  very  day  ?" 

Xenocles  made  a  repellent  gesture. 

"  Do  not  speak  of  it !"  he  cried. 

"  Well  then,"  replied  Thuphrastos,  "  I'll  give  you  a 
son-in-law  and,  by  the  gods,  a  better  one  than  that 
chatterer." 

Xenocles  raised  his  head  with  a  questioning  glance. 

"The  man  I  shall  bring  you  is  not  far  off,"  con- 
tinued Thuphrastos.  "  Here  you  see  Hipyllos !  He 
loves  the  maiden.  We  know  of  him  —  what  nobody 
knew  about  that  shrieker  —  that  he  is  rich.    He  showed 


THE    HETAERIA.  I93 

his  courage  at  the  battle  of  Antirrhium  —  he  has  ar- 
chons  in  his  family.     What  more  can  you  desire  ?" 

"  Nothing,  by  Zeus !"  answered  Xenocles  laughing 
and  grasping  the  yovlng  man's  hand,  "  what  objection 
should  I  have  to  a  son-in-law  who  will  make  me  a 
family  connection  of  Lacrateides  ?" 

Hipyllos  pressed  Xenocles'  hand  in  both  his  own. 

"  Father !"  he  cried  warmly,  "  give  me  your  daugh- 
ter Clytie  !  Neither  you  nor  she  shall  repent  it  —  that 
I  swear  by  all  the  gods." 

Soon  after  Hipyllos  stole  out  into  the  peristyle  and 
called  his  slave. 

"  Myrmex,"  he  whispered,  "  hurry  down  to  the 
house  of  Sauros,  the  armorer.  Ask  for  Ninus,  the 
priestess  of  Sabazius,  and  let  her  see  that  the  young 
lady  and  her  slave  return  home  at  once  without  being 
seen.     Look,  here  is  money." 

When  Hipyllos  returned,  the  last  discussion  among 
the  hetaeria  took  place.  It  lasted  an  hour ;  finally 
the  members  of  the  society  released  one  another  from 
their  oaths  and  divided  the  money  which  had  been 
contributed. 

As  soon  as  possible  Hipyllos  slipped  away,  without 
taking  leave  of  any  one  except  Lamon,  the  owner  of 
the  house. 


13 


194  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 


XXIV. 

HiPYLLOS  walked  swiftly  down  the  hill.  He 
wanted  to  be  the  first  to  carry  the  glad  tidings  to 
Clytie. 

About  half  way  he  met  Myrmex,  who  was  appar- 
ently returning  after  having  performed  his  errand.  As 
the  way  was  stony  and  the  moon  often  concealed 
behind  clouds  the  old  man  had  lighted  a  torch,  but 
Hipyllos  wanted  neither  him  nor  his  torch  —  he  let  the 
moon  light  him  as  best  it  could  and  hurried  past  him, 
exclaiming : 

"  Follow  me,  and  put  out  the  torch  when  you  enter 
the  street." 

Then,  leaping  rather  than  walking  down  the  hill, 
he  turned  into  the  dark,  shaded  Limnae,  and  soon  saw 
the  familiar  ray  of  light  stream  out  to  meet  him  from 
the  side-building  of  Xenocles'  house.  Hurrying  tow- 
ards it,  he  picked  up  a  pebble  from  the  ground  and 
flung  it  against  the  wall. 

The  red  curtain  was  drawn  aside  and  in  the  open- 
ing appeared  the  object  of  his  longing  —  Clytie !  As 
the  lamp  stood  back  in  the  room  the  rays  divided  and 
left  her  almost  in  darkness,  but  the  youthful  figure 
formed  a  shadowy  outline,  which  was  quite  enough  to 


THE    HETAERIA.  I95 

make  a  lover's  heart  throb.  Though  Hipyllos  was  un- 
able to  distinguish  her  features,  the  luxuriant  hair,  the 
childish  roundness  of  the  cheeks,  and  the  graceful 
slope  of  the  shoulders  possessed  bewitching  suggestions 
of  youthful  beauty,  and  Hipyllos  knew  that  these  signs 
were  no  delusions. 

Spite  of  the  darkness  outside,  Clytie  recognized  him 
and  exclaimed  : 

"  Eternal  Gods !  What  has  happened  ?  Good  or 
evil  fortune  ?     Speak,  speak,  I  implore  you." 

Hipyllos  listened  in  delight.  Every  word  uttered 
by  the  young  girl's  lips  echoed  with  a  silvery  cadence 
upon  the  silence  of  the  night. 

He  pushed  a  log  against  the  wall  with  his  foot,  and 
sprang  upon  it. 

"  Dear,  lovely  Clytie,"  he  whispered,  *'  give  me 
your  hand  !  What  I  have  to  say  is  surely  worth  a 
clasp  of  the  fingers." 

He  now  told  her  in  a  few  words  the  events  of  the 
evening ;  but  he  was  apparently  not  satisfied  with  a 
mere  clasp  of  the  hand. 

Suddenly  the  street  was  illumined  by  a  broad  ray  of 
light  and,  though  Hipyllos'  shadow,  gigantic  and 
strangely  distorted,  fell  on  the  wall  and  the  loop-hole 
it  was  not  difficult  for  the  new-comers  to  see  that  he 
was  in  the  act  of  pressing  his  lips  upon  a  dazzlingly 
white  arm,  which  vainly  strove  to  escape  the  caress. 

"  Aha !"  cried  an  angry  voice,  "  a  pretty  sight,  by 
Heracles.  .  .  ." 


196  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

Clytie,  with  a  half-stifled  shriek,  vanished  from  the 
loop-hole  and  Hipyllos,  turning,  leaped  down  from  the 
log. 

Accompanied  by  a  slave  bearing  a  blazing  torch 
Xenocles,  after  following  a  cross-path  over  the  hill,  had 
just  emerged  from  the  shrubbery.  Hipyllos  had  not 
thought  that  the  active  httle  man,  spite  of  his  age,  was 
almost  as  agile  in  his  gait  as  he  himself. 

Xenocles  seemed  furiously  enraged,  and  struck 
fiercely  at  the  youth  with  his  clenched  fists. 

"  Begone  1"  he  shouted.  "  Begone  from  my  sight. 
Do  you  suppose  I  will  give  my  daughter  to  a  rake  who 
steals  to  the  maiden's  room  in  the  darkness  of  night. 
Be  off  from  here,  I  say ;  Clytie  shall  never  be  your 
wife." 

At  these  words  Hipyllos  turned  deadly  pale  and 
his  head  swam.  Now  that  all  obstacles  were  removed, 
now  that  he  believed  himself  at  the  goal  of  his  wishes, 
this  had  happened  so  unexpectedly  that  it  seemed  as 
though  the  earth  had  yawned  under  his  feet. 

Throwing  himself  at  Xenocles'  feet,  he  clasped  his 
knees  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes  exclaimed  in  the  most 
imploring  accents :  "  My  father,  punish  me,  let  me  be 
scourged  by  your  slaves  —  I  will  offer  my  back  to 
them  myself,  but  forgive  me  !  Your  daughter  is  dearer 
to  me  than  the  hght  of  my  eyes." 

A  singular  twitching  convulsed  Xenocles'  features ; 
he  averted  his  face,  but  unable  to  control  himself, 
burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 


THE    HETAERIA.  I97 

"Young  man,"  he  said,  when  he  was  once  more 
capable  of  speech,  "  confess  that  I  gave  you  a  terrible 
fright.  But,"  he  added,  raising  his  voice,  "  you  both 
deserved  it  —  she  not  less  than  you.  Now  I  under- 
stand the  Avhole  affair  —  had  she  not  been  accom- 
panied by  you,  she  would  never  have  dared  to  fly 
from  her  father's  house  at  night." 

Hipyllos  scarcely  knew  hunself  how  he  took  leave 
of  Xenocles.  Now  that  everything  had  resulted  hap- 
pily he  was  fairly  intoxicated  with  joy.  Attended  by 
Myrmex  he  wandered  about,  revelling  in  his  delight, 
through  the  moon-lit  night.  What  cared  he  for  the 
rough  rioters  he  met,  or  the  muffled  thieves  who 
watched  behind  the  altars  on  the  cross-roads. 

Did  not  everything  seem  to  smile  upon  him  ?  He 
had  come  into  the  "  Gardens,"  the  lovehest  part  of 
Athens.  In  the  centre  of  the  ground  sloping  towards 
the  river  towered  a  tall  plane-tree  at  whose  foot  a 
fountain  rippled ;  around  it  stretched  thickets  of  Agnus 
castus  trees,  against  whose  dark  background  white 
statues  were  clearly  relieved.  Of  the  nine  sanctuaries 
in  this  quarter  the  marble  temple  of  Aphrodite  gleamed 
through  dark,  towering  cypresses ;  below  it  the  waves 
of  the  Ilissus,  consecrated  to  the  Muses,  sparkled  in 
their  deep  channel,  and  from  a  path  along  the  bank  of 
the  stream  gay  conversation  echoed  upon  the  silence  of 
the  night.  Suddenly  a  youthful  voice,  which  seemed 
the  embodiment  of  light-heartedness,  began  the  follow- 
ing song : 


198  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

"  Wherefore,  prithee,  need  I  learn 
Justice,  law,  and  oratory  ? 
Wherefore  must  I  my  thoughts  turn 
To  things  valueless  to  me  ? 
Let  me  rather  gaily  seek 
With  my  friends  for  mirth  and  joy, 
Teach  me  tender  words  to  speak 
And  with  fair  Aphrodite  toy." 

Hipyllos  softly  repeated  the  last  words  of  the  song. 
He  felt  as  though,  like  the  gods  themselves,  he  was 
walking  on  the  clouds.  Just  at  that  moment  repeated 
groans  happened  to  attract  his  attention,  and  turning 
he  saw  that  his  old  slave  could  scarcely  keep  up  with 
him. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Myrmex  ?"  he  asked  good- 
naturedly.  "  Don't  you  see  that  I  am  as  happy  as  a 
god  —  and  here  you  are  growing  worse  than  Sisyphus 
himself." 

"  Don't  be  angry,"  whined  the  old  man.  "  It  is 
growing  late.     Haven't  we  walked  far  enough  to-day  ?" 

"  Well  then  —  home  !"  replied  Hipyllos  laughing, 
"but  to-morrow.  .  .  ." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  asked  Myrmex 
rather  anxiously. 

"  To-morrow  I  shall  go  to  the  Lyceium  to  listen  to 
the  wise  teachings  of  Hippias  from  Elis.  He  who  can 
boast  of  being  able  to  answer  any  question  must  surely 
be  a  man  of  varied  knowledge." 

"  And  what  do  you  want  him  to  teach  you  ?" 

"  First  to  make  happiness  a  household  goddess." 


THE    HETAERIA. 


199 


"  And  next  ?" 

"  To  bind  her  wings." 

"  So  that  she  can  always  stay  with  you  ?" 

"  Even  so,  wise  Myrmex." 


TOO    HAPPY. 


THIRD    YEAR    OF    THE    qStH    OLYMPIAD     {^86    B.C.) 


TOO     HAPPY. 


One  beautiful  summer  day  in  the  month  Metageit- 
nion  a  large  ship  sailed  past  the  eastern  point  of  Crete 
and  steered  with  its  two  shovel-shaped  rudders  into  the 
^gean  Sea.  A  fresh  east  wind  fluttered  the  purple 
flag  and  made  the  white  sail,  strengthened  by  a  net- 
work of  cordage,  swell  above  the  waves. 

The  ship  was  called  a  Samian,  and  its  deeply- 
arched  bow  showed  that  it  was  built  to  contain  a  large 
cargo.  Although  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  stadium  long 
—  or  about  as  large  as  the  largest  war- vessel  of  those 
days  —  she  was  evidently  a  peaceful  trader ;    for  below 


204  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

the  protecting  figure-head  —  a  Doris,  daughter  of 
Oceanus  —  with  which  the  curve  of  the  prow  was 
adorned  and  whose  name  the  ship  bore,  one  would 
have  vainly  looked  for  the  weapons  peculiar  to  a  ship's 
armament,  the  projecting  iron-shod  embolus  or  beak. 
On  the  stern  was  the  statue  of  the  goddess  Athene,  the 
familiar  '•  Attic  sign,"  which  showed  that  the  vessel 
was  an  Athenian  ship.  To  strengthen  the  joining  of 
the  planks  the  hull,  from  stem  to  stem,  was  surrounded 
with  numerous  belts  of  thick  ropes  which,  like  the  hull 
itself,  were  smeared  with  a  mixture  of  pitch  and  wax. 
Along  the  vessel's  sides  appeared  a  row  of  semi-circular 
air-holes,  and  through  the  openings  made  for  the  rud- 
ders ran  the  hawsers  wound  about  a  capstan.  Out- 
side, just  below  the  figure-head,  two  huge  eyes  were 
painted  —  probably  to  indicate  that  the  ship  under- 
stood how  to  find  her  way  over  the  sea. 

At  the  curve  of  the  prow,  the  highest  part  of  the 
Samian,  where  the  bearded  steersman  managed  the 
double  helm,  stood  a  httle  group  of  travellers  talking 
gaily  with  each  other.  They  were  Lydian  and  Phoe- 
nician merchants,  availing  themselves  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  go  to  Athens,  as  the  merchantman,  after 
having  visited  the  most  important  ports  in  Asia  Minor, 
would  return  home  fully  laden  to  the  Piraeeus  for 
repairs. 

The  sailors  who  had  gathered  in  the  bow  sang 
their  monotonous  songs  or  fell  asleep,  stretched  in  the 
shade  behind  the  sail,  in  the  very  act  of  chewing 
onions,  while   some   young  slaves,    busied   in  making 


TOO     HAPPY.  205 

preparations  for  an  approaching  meal,  moved  to  and 
fro  among  them. 

At  the  foot  of  the  mast  was  a  red  and  white  striped 
tent,  low  enough  not  to  interfere  with  the  movements 
of  the  sail.  This  tent  was  closed  by  a  curtain,  though 
not  so  completely  that  those  within  could  not  keep  an 
eye  upon  a  little  white-robed  boy  four  or  five  years  old, 
who  was  riding  up  and  down  on  a  speckled  hobby- 
horse. The  space  for  play  was  very  small  and  he 
sometimes  ran  among  a  pile  of  chests  and  boxes,  where 
he  tripped,  stumbled,  and  almost  fell.  Whenever  this 
happened,  a  woman's  voice  inside  the  pavilion  said : 

"  Callias  must  stay  where  mother  told  him  —  or 
Mormo  will  come." 

The  tent  contained  two  persons,  the  ship's  owner 
and  master,  a  young  Attic  merchant,  who  was  reclining 
on  a  couch,  and  his  wife,  who  sat  on  the  edge  of  the 
seat  in  front  of  him. 

Glaucus  —  the  merchant's  name  —  was  a  man  of  five 
and  twenty,  with  a  handsome,  somewhat  pallid  face. 
He  was  clad  in  a  reddish-brown  robe  with  a  broad 
white  border  and,  as  the  summer  day  was  scorching 
hot,  he  wore  no  girdle  around  his  waist.  In  his  hand 
he  held  a  manuscript,  but  had  let  it  fall  by  his  side  as 
though  his  thoughts  were  not  fixed  on  the  contents 

"  No !"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  as  he  pushed  back 
his  dark  locks  and  flung  the  scroll  on  a  table,  "  I  can- 
not forget  that  strange  man  !" 

"  Who  was  he  ?"  asked  his  wife. 

"  How  do  I  know,  Charicleia  ?     He  rowed  out  to 


2o6  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

the  ship  in  the  bay  of  Celenderis  to  sell  us  some  sheep 
he  had  in  his  boat.  You  had  gone  on  shore  with  the 
slaves  to  make  some  purchases.  Scarcely  had  he 
come  on  board,  ere  he  asked  in  the  most  simple- 
minded  way  about  everything  he  saw.  He  wanted  to 
know  whether  Indian  ivory  or  Sardian  purple  was  the 
dearer,  and  whether  a  house  could  be  built  for  the 
money  one  of  the  gold  embroidered  carpets  from 
Babylon  had  cost." 

"  How  did  the  man  look  ?"  asked  Charicleia. 

"He  resembled  Heracles,  as  he  is  represented  on 
the  stage  by  the  actors.  He  was  tall,  large-limbed, 
walked  with  his  back  bent,  was  clumsy  and  awkward 
in  his  movements,  and  had  tangled  hair  hanging  low 
on  his  forehead." 

"What  else  did  he  notice  on  board ?" 

"  He  could  not  weary  of  examining  everything. 
He  had  never  supposed  that  there  were  ships  so  large. 
Finally  he  became  so  troublesome  that  I  ordered  my 
sailors  to  put  him  back  in  his  boat ;  but  the  giant  de- 
fended himself  and  —  quicker  than  speech  —  two  of 
my  steersmen  lay  stretched  on  the  deck,  one  with  his 
face  bleeding  from  a  blow.  Frantic  with  rage,  I 
gripped  his  breast,  shouting :  "  Quit  my  ship.  Bar- 
barian or,  by  Zeus,  you  will  fare  ill.  But  lo !  some- 
thing very  like  a  miracle  happened  before  our  eyes. 
At  the  word  :  '  Barbarian,'  he  drew  himself  up,  flung 
back  his  hair,  and  suddenly  stood  before  us  like  a 
totally  different  being.  His  stupid  look  had  vanished, 
his  eyes  flashed,  and  his  huge  figure  and  dark  face 


TOO    HAPPY.  207 

made  a  terrible  impression  of  untamed  strength  and 
fierceness.  '  We  shall  meet  again,  Athenian !'  he  said 
and,  pushing  my  people  aside  like  bundles  of  straw,  he 
swung  himself  down  into  the  boat  and  rowed  swiftly  to 
the  shore." 

"  Glaucus,"  said  the  young  wife,  turning  pale,  "  I 
am  afraid  of  this  man." 

"  Simpleton !"  replied  Glaucus  smiling,  "  you  ought 
rather  to  rejoice  "  and,  lowering  his  voice,  he  added :  "  I 
long  for  some  touch  of  adversity.  We  are  too  fortu- 
nate, we  fare  like  the  happy  gods.  We  have  nothing 
to  desire.  .  .  .  Have  I  not  a  superabundance  of  prop- 
erty and  wealth,  a  spacious,  handsome  house,  large 
store-houses  in  Athens  and  the  Piraeeus,  numerous 
ships  at  sea,  and  a  beautiful  villa  at  Salamis  ?  And  as 
to  the  future,  have  I  not  my  little  Callias  to  inherit  all 
I  possess  ?" 

Now  that  he  had  spoken  of  his  wealth  and  his 
son,  he  thought  of  his  wife.  In  ancient  times  women 
were  little  valued. 

Half  rising  on  his  couch  he  let  his  eyes  rest  on 
Charicleia's  figure.  Her  thin,  light  dress,  with  a  pat- 
tern of  small  green  leaves,  displayed  the  delicate  neck 
and  white  shoulders,  and  the  mere  way  in  which  she 
carried  her  head  revealed  the  young  oikodespoina 
(mistress  of  the  house)  who  was  born  of  a  noble  race 
and  accustomed  to  command  numerous  slaves. 

Glaucus  clasped  her  soft,  ringed  hand. 

"  And  have  I  not,  he  added,  '*  a  good  and  beauti- 
ful wife  ?" 


2o8  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Charicleia  raised  her  dark  eyes  to  his  and  rephed 
by  a  pressure  of  the  hand  that  meant :  "  And  haven't 
I  the  best  and  handsomest  of  husbands  ?" 

"  Don't  look  at  me  so,  my  bee,*  said  Glaucus  smil- 
ing. "  My  whole  soul  yearns  to  you.  But  you  know 
what  the  sailors  say  :  '  Ships  must  be  kept  free  from 
Aphrodite's  lures,  first  because  they  are  sacred,  and 
secondly  because  it  isn't  right  to  trifle,  when  there  is 
only  a  plank  between  us  and  death.'  " 

Charicleia  was  not  listening  to  him. 

"So  you  think,"  she  said  reflectively,  "that  we  are 
too  happy.     Do  you  fear  the  envy  of  the  gods  ?" 

"  I  do,"  Glaucus  whispered,  as  though  afraid  of 
being  heard  by  invisible  ears. 

"  Console  yourself,  my  friend.  The  happy  gods 
have  no  wishes.  But  I  have  one  so  important  to  me 
that  the  doubt  of  its  fulfilment  is  a  thorn  in  my  heart." 

"  And  what  is  this  desire  ?"  asked  Glaucus  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  That,  when  our  lives  draw  near  their  end,  we  may 
(lie  together.  Thmk,  Glaucus,  if  one  of  us  should  sud- 
denly be  left  alone.  Beneficent  Gods  !  how  often  I 
have  prayed  ye  to  avert  this  misfortune." 

"  Beware,  Charicleia  !"  said  Glaucus  gravely.  "  Do 
not  pray  for  foolish  things.  Life  and  death  are  in  the 
power  of  the  gods  —  what  do  we  know  about  them  ? 
Perhaps  you  would  bitterly  repent  your  wish,  if  the 
heavenly  powers  should  grant  it." 

"*  A  common  term  of  endearment  for  women.  Of  course  the  al- 
lusion was  not  to  the  bee  as  armed  with  a  sting,  but  to  the  producer 
of  honey,  the  sweetest  thing  known  at  that  period. 


TOO    HAPPY.  209 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !"  cried  Charicleia.  "  Let  death  come 
when  and  as  it  will,  if  it  only  snatches  us  away  to- 
gether." 

With  these  words  she  drew  the  curtain  of  the  tent 
aside.  Before  them  lay  the  glittering  sea,  furrowed 
with  its  greenish  billows,  which  seemed  to  roll  sleepily 
away  in  the  sunshine.  In  the  distance  two  of  the 
Cyclades  raised  their  rocky  heights  towards  the  sky, 
and  far  away  to  the  north  towered  some  bluish-black 
clouds,  so  sharply  outlined  against  the  clear  azure  of 
the  heavens  that  they  resembled  jagged  mountain  peaks. 

"  If  my  wish  has  found  favor  with  Ye,  Heavenly 
Powers,"  cried  Charicleia,  raising  her  arms  with  south- 
ern fervor  towards  the  sky,  "  oh  !  give  me,  in  my  hus- 
band's presence,  a  sign  that  my  prayer  will  be  granted." 

Stepping  entirely  out  of  the  pavilion  she  gazed 
around  her.  Glaucus  had  risen  from  the  couch  and, 
standing  in  the  shadow,  followed  the  direction  of  her 
glance.  Even  little  Callias  had  a  presentiment  that 
something  was  expected.  Pausing  in  his  play,  he  ran 
to  his  mother  and  took  hold  of  her  dress. 

Just  at  that  moment  a  dazzling  flash  of  lightning 
darted  from  the  dark  sky  far  away,  followed  in  a  few 
moments  by  the  roll  of  distant  thunder.  Three  white 
birds,  one  small  and  two  large  ones,  flew  with  rapid 
strokes  of  their  long  wings  over  the  ship,  following 
each  other  at  precisely  the  same  distance,  as  though 
bound  together  by  some  invisible  chain.  They  mounted 
higher  and  higher  as  if  they  wanted  to  soar  into  the 
sky  and  soon  became  mere  indistinct  si^ecks. 
14 


210  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

"  Look !"  exclaimed  Charicleia,  her  face  radiant 
with  joy,  "  they  come  from  the  riglit  and  move  towards 
the  left.  My  prayer  will  be  fulfilled."  And  kneeling, 
she  stretched  her  arms  towards  the  sky,  saying  : 
'■'■  DecJiomai  ton  oionon  '    I  accept  the  omen." 

Again  from  the  distance,  as  if  in  confirmation, 
echoed  a  low  peal  of  thunder. 

"  But,"  remarked  Glaucus,  "  there  were  three  birds, 
one  smaller  than  the  others.  .  .  .  ?" 

"  My  friend,"  said  Charicleia,  clasping  his  hands, 
"  perhaps  it  is  the  will  of  the  gods  that  we  must  die 
while  Callias  is  still  a  child.  In  that  case  I  accept  the 
omen  for  him  also.     Let  him  follow  us  !" 

Whatever  impression  this  scene  had  made  upon 
Glaucus,  it  had  not  escaped  his  notice  that  meantime  a 
strange  tumult  had  arisen  on  deck.  Eager,  anxious 
conversation  echoed  from  the  stern  where  the  steers- 
man stood,  several  young  slaves  were  running  to  and 
fro,  nay  even  the  lazy  sailors  in  the  bow  were  begin- 
ning to  move.  Some  of  them  strolled  slowly  past  the 
tent. 

"  What  has  happened  ?"  asked  Glaucus. 

"  A  small  vessel  has  been  sighted  in  the  offing.  ..." 
began  one. 

"  Which  seems  to  be  followmg  us,"  added  another. 

Glaucus  went  to  the  steersman. 

"  Ever  since  we  passed  Rhodus,"  said  the  latter, 
"  that  little  ship  yonder  has  been  following  us,  always 
steering  in  the  same  direction.     Twice  I  have  inten- 


TOO    HAPPY.  211 

tionally  tacked,  and  each  time  I  saw  that  the  vessel 
turned  with  us.     So  I  fear  she  is  a  CiUcian  pirate." 

"  Come  here,  Egyptian !"  said  Glaucus,  beckoning 
to  the  oldest  of  the  sailors,  a  bald,  grey-bearded  man  of 
very  singular  aspect. 

He  had  been  dubbed  "  Egyptian  "  because  for 
many  years  he  had  sailed  to  Busiris,  Bubastis,  and 
other  cities  on  the  Nile.  No  one  had  ever  seen  him 
wear  anything  except  a  garment  of  braided  mats, 
through  which  his  lean  arms  and  legs  looked  like  a 
little  child's  first  rude  drawings  of  the  human  figure. 
His  skin  seemed  tanned  by  the  Libyan  sun  and  never 
appeared  clean,  and  his  mouth  was  a  tightly  closed 
straight  line  as  if  he  had  no  lips.  It  might  be  sup- 
posed that  few  words  escaped  them. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Egyptian  ?"  said  Glaucus, 
raising  his  voice  —  the  man  was  somewhat  deaf. 

"  The  rustling  of  a  fig-leaf,"  *  replied  the  Egyptian 
curtly,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  What  kind  of  craft  do  you  think  she  is  ?"  asked 
Glaucus. 

"  A  Myoparian,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Myoparian  (nimble  as  a  mouse)  was  the  name 
given  to  small  swift-sailing  ships  belonging  to  the  Cy- 
clades.  In  earlier  times  they  had  often  been  used 
to  plunder  trading-vessels,  but  at  this  date  were  em- 
ployed only  for  peaceful  purposes  and  had  the  best 
reputation. 

*  A  false  alarm. 


212  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

The  Egyptian's  statement  was  therefore  eagerly 
welcomed. 

"  The  man  is  right,"  said  one  of  the  Phoenician 
merchants,  stroking  his  braided  beard.  "  How  often 
small  ships  are  seen  following  large  ones  !  It  is  partly 
because  their  captains  think  the  steersmen  of  large 
vessels  have  more  experience  and  partly  because  they 
hope  for  a  refuge  in  case  of  need." 

"  But,"  objected  one  of  the  travelers,  "  pirates  can 
just  as  well  pursue  us  in  a  Myoparian  they  have  cap- 
tured as  in  any  other  vessel." 

"  May  I  be  permitted  to  speak.  Master,"  said  a  na- 
tive-born Athenian  slave,  turning  to  Glaucus.  He  was 
a  young  man  with  a  refined,  intelligent  face,  whose 
natural  beauty  was  not  even  destroyed  by  hair  closely 
cut  after  the  slave-fashion. 

Glaucus  nodded  assent. 

"  I  think  the  steersman  is  right,"  said  the  youth. 
"  If  that  vessel  is  as  fleet  as  is  said,  yet  holds  back, 
there  is  surely  some  evil  intended,  which  will  not  ap- 
pear until  the  time  seems  favorable." 

So  the  talk  went  on  and  the  most  contradictory 
opinions  were  expressed.  The  dispute  was  not  yet 
over  at  the  approach  of  sunset. 

The  western  sky  was  radiant  with  golden  light  and 
far  above  the  ship  a  few  thin  clouds,  which  formerly 
had  scarcely  been  noticed,  were  clearly  relieved  against 
the  deep  azure  as  they  assumed  a  bright  crimson  hue, 
which  made  them  resemble  light  feathers.  Even  the 
sea  shared  the  sunset  splendor  and  mirrored  the  fiery 


TOO    HAPPY.  213 

glow,  against  which  the  long  billows  looked  like  dark, 
moving  streaks. 

The  Samian  made  little  headway.  The  sail  flapped 
feebly  to  and  fro ;  there  was  not  wind  enough  to  fill  it, 
and  ere  the  sun  had  sunk  beneath  the  sea  the  last  faint 
breeze  had  died  away. 

The  rowers  were  now  obhged  to  take  their  seats; 
the  celeustis  began  the  monotonous  chant  that  marked 
the  time,  yet  nimbly  as  the  oars  moved,  the  great  ship 
advanced  slowly. 

It  was  far  different  with  the  small  vessel,  whose  dis- 
tance seemed  gradually  to  decrease,  and  there  could 
soon  be  no  doubt  that  it  was  gaining  upon  the  Attic 
ship.  Ere  long  those  on  the  latter  could  see  the  white 
foam  washing  under  the  Myoparian's  bow  —  a  sign  of 
the  speed  with  which  she  was  moving  —  and  soon 
after  they  perceived  that  she  was  strongly  manned  and 
had  all  her  oars  out.  From  that  time  the  vessel  ap- 
proached so  swiftly  that  it  seemed  to  grow  every  mo- 
ment. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  Lydian  merchants  exclaimed 
in  a  loud  voice  : 

"  It's  all  over  with  us !  They  are  pirates,  the  craft 
is  Thyamis'  ship  from  Coracesium.  Once  before  I  have 
been  robbed  by  him  and  barely  escaped  with  my  life." 

At  these  words  indescribable  terror  and  confusion 
arose  on  board.  Some  covered  their  faces  to  await 
death,  others  uttered  loud  lamentations  and  wrung 
their-  hands  irresolutely;  a  few  tried  to  hide  in  the 
ship's  hold,  others  wanted  to  have  the  boats  lowered  to 


214  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

escape  by  flight,  and  some  young  slaves,  in  their  fear  of 
losing  a  life  which  scarcely  seemed  of  any  special 
value,  ran  to  and  fro  as  though  out  of  their  senses. 

Amid  this  universal  irresolution  the  Myoparian 
came  close  behind. 

Glaucus  comforted  his  wife  with  a  few  soothing 
words  and  told  her  to  stay  inside  of  the  tent  with  little 
Callias.  He  himself  went  to  the  stern,  collected  the 
passengers  and  sailors  around  him,  and  said  : 

"  Friends,  if  we  do  not  repulse  that  wretch's  attack^ 
many  of  us  must  lose  our  lives.  But  we  are  numerous 
enough,  if  we  only  resolve  to  do  so,  to  save  ourselves 
and  the  ship.  Besides  the  steersman  and  myself  there 
are  on  board  five  foreign  merchants  and  six  sailors ;  so 
in  all  we  have  thirteen  free  men,  while  of  slaves  there 
are  the  fourteen  oarsmen,  four  slaves  of  my  own,  and 
ten  who  accompanied  the  foreign  merchants.  As  the 
Myoparian  has  no  boats,  we  can  only  be  attacked  on 
one  side  and  there  only  for  a  distance  not  exceeding 
the  length  of  yonder  little  vessel.  Twenty  brave  men 
would  be  enough  to  repel  such  an  assault,  and  we,  — 
including  freemen  and  slaves  —  number  more  than 
forty  !  You  can  obtain  weapons  from  the  steersman ; 
for  though  I  have  never  met  pirates  until  now,  I  have 
always  been  ready  to  receive  them.  If  we  repulse  the 
attack,  I  will  free  my  slaves  and  give  each  sailor  a 
large  reward.  Show  courage  and  firmness  —  and  the 
victory  will  be  ours.  Besides,  we  shall  fight  from  a 
higher  position  as  if  we  were  in  a  fortress." 

"  Let  them  come,"  said  the  steersman  coolly,  "  we'll 


TOO    HAPPY.  215 

receive  them  in  such  a  way  that  hereafter  they'll  avoid 
attacking  an  Attic  ship." 

The  crew,  in  answer  to  these  words,  maintained  an 
ominous  silence  and,  when  the  steersman  distributed 
the  weapons,  he  noticed  that  many  of  the  men  were  re- 
luctant to  take  them. 

One  of  the  rowers,  a  Cretan  with  a  sly,  crafty  face, 
had  alarmed  the  men  on  their  way  to  him. 

"  Don't  be  simpletons  !"  he  had  said.  ''  Throw  the 
swords  into  the  sea  in  time.  Those  whom  the  pirates 
catch  with  arms  in  their  hands  will  be  killed  at  once." 

Meantime  twilight  had  begun  to  close  in.  The 
glowing  colors  in  the  sky  had  faded,  the  black  storm- 
cloud  had  risen  higher,  and  the  sea  stretched  sullen 
and  leaden-hued  below. 

The  Myoparian  glided  past  the  ship  at  some  dis- 
tance. It  was  a  proud  sight  to  behold  the  light  craft, 
with  a  fringe  of  snow-white  foam  before  her  prow,  cut 
through  the  billows,  while  the  glittering  oars  rose  and 
fell  in  regular  time.  The  pirate  swept  round  the  Athe- 
nian ship  in  a  wide  curve  and,  as  though  to  display  her 
superiority,  encircled  it  several  times  in  ever  narrowing 
rounds,  so  that  the  big,  clumsy  Samian  lay  as  though 
besieged  by  this  one  little  craft. 

Suddenly  a  score  of  fir-wood  torches  were  lighted 
on  board  the  Myoparian  and,  by  the  glare  of  their  red, 
flaring  flames,  reflected  like  quivering  streaks  of  fire 
over  the  sea,  the  vessel  was  seen  swarming  with  dark, 
threatening  figures,  among  whom,  ever  and  anon,  was 
noticed  the  ghnt  of  shining  arms.     There  was  some- 


2l6  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

thing  strangely  gloomy  about  this  glimmer  which  made 
the  Egyptian  say : 

"  Do  you  see  those  weapons  ?  They  cut  the  eye 
as  they  wound  the  flesh." 

On  an  empty  space  near  the  pirate's  stem  stood 
her  captain,  a  gigantic  man,  clad  with  barbaric  splen- 
dor. Around  his  dark  hair  was  bound  a  broad  fillet  of 
yellow  byssus,  embroidered  with  gold ;  a  superb  violet- 
blue  upper-robe  hung  loosely  over  his  shoulders  and 
opened  over  a  dazzlingly-white  chiton,  fastened  with  a 
gold  belt.  On  his  feet  he  had  short  endromides  or 
half  boots  of  the  same  magnificent  hue  as  his  upper 
robe,  and  in  his  hand  he  held  a  trident  of  polished 
steel  that  sparkled  and  flashed  in  the  torch-hght. 

"  Woe  betide  us !  Woe  betide  us  !"  repeated  the 
Lydian  merchant,  who  had  first  recognized  the  vessel. 
It  is  Thyamis,  the  most  terrible  of  all  the  Cilician  cor- 
sairs. 

Glaucus,  too,  recognized  the  man  in  spite  of  his 
changed  exterior.  Now  he  understood  why  the  giant 
had  desired  to  see  everything  on  board  when  the 
Samian  lay  at  anchor  in  the  bay  at  Celenderis. 

The  Myoparian  with  a  few  powerful  strokes  of  the 
oars  approached  still  nearer,  so  that  it  lay  side  by  side 
with  the  Attic  ship. 

At  a  sign  from  his  captain  one  of  the  pirates  sprang 
upon  the  gunwale  and  shouted  to  the  crew  of  the  mer- 
chantman : 

"  Luckless  men  !     Why  do  you  seek  death  ?     Why 


TOO    HAPPY. 


217 


resist  a  superior  force  ?  Yield  the  ship,  then  you  can 
get  into  your  boats  and  row  wherever  you  choose." 

But  Glaucus  stepped  into  the  stern  of  his  ship  and 
answered : 

"  Wretches !  Know  that  we  lack  neither  men  nor 
weapons.  If  you  attack,  we  will  defend  ourselves  and 
fight  till  the  victory  is  ours." 

The  corsairs'  reply  was  only  a  jeering  laugh. 

Then  there  was  a  great  bustle  on  board  the  Myo- 
parian.  The  mast  was  raised,  hoisting  a  yard  consist- 
ing of  two  pieces,  from  which  hung  a  large  dark  object 
bearing  a  certain  resemblance  to  a  dolphin,  for  it  was 
distaff-shaped,  thickest  in  the  middle  and  lessening  at 
both  ends.  This  object  was  evidently  very  heavy; 
the  mast  creaked  and  strained  and  the  yard  bent  per- 
ceptibly under  its  weight. 

The  pirate-ship  again  approached  the  merchantman 
and  lay  alongside.  A  man  with  an  evil,  almost 
animal  face,  wearing  a  red  Phrygian  cap  on  his  head, 
climbed  up  the  yard  far  enough  to  be  able  to  look 
down  on  the  Samian's  deck, 

"Too  late  to  yield  now !"  he  shouted.  "  Now  you 
must  all  die." 

At  these  words  some  of  the  young  slaves  burst  into 
loud  lamentations;  but  above  every  other  sound 
echoed  from  the  tent  a  frightened  child's  sobbing  and 
wailing,  which  would  not  be  silenced,  no  matter  how 
tenderly  it  was  hushed. 

"  What  a  horrible  bawler !"  cried  the  man  with  the 


2l8  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Phrygian  cap.  "  Just  wait !  When  the  dolphin  comes, 
he'll  stop  his  mouth." 

Then,  swinging  himself  over  among  the  rigging 
that  supported  the  mast,  he  called  to  the  men  below : 
"  Heave !" 

The  pirates,  with  a  quick  swing,  brought  the  yard 
over  the  great  ship.  The  man  in  the  red  cap  pulled 
with  all  his  might  at  a  rope  he  held  in  his  hand,  and 
the  missile  suspended  from  the  yard  —  the  so-called 
"  dolphin,"  a  leaden  mass  of  immense  weight,  plunged 
down  upon  the  tent  just  as  Charicleia  came  out  of  it, 
holding  the  crying  child  by  the  hand.  There  was  a 
terrible,  deafening  crash,  the  ship  trembled  from  mast- 
head to  keel  as  though  every  seam  was  separating ; 
almost  at  the  same  moment  there  was  heard  —  this 
time  under  the  deck  —  a  similar  crash,  accompanied  by 
a  violent  jarring  and  a  strange,  gurgling,  rippling  noise 
like  the  bubbling  of  a  spring. 

The  tent  was  dragged  down  and  partly  covered  a 
yawning  hole  in  the  deck,  from  which  rose  splinters 
yards  long.  Charicleia  had  felt  little  Callias'  hand 
torn  from  hers  by  some  terrible,  resistless  power,  and 
at  the  same  moment,  while  half  buried  under  the  folds 
of  the  tent,  a  warm,  sticky  stream  had  spurted  over  her 
foot.  Though  she  had  not  seen  it,  she  well  knew  what 
it  was. 

Pale  as  a  corpse,  she  staggered  back  a  step  and 
seemed  on  the  verge  of  fainting.  Then,  as  if  in  a 
dream,  she  heard  the  red-capped  corsair  burst  into  a 
laugh  and  call  to  his  comrades : 


TOO    HAPPY.  2I9> 

"  You  see,  it  hit !  The  bawler  is  silenced.  He  has 
ridden  down  to  Hades  on  the  dolphin." 

At  the  words  and  laugh  a  mist  of  blood  seemed  to 
dim  Charicleia's  eyes ;  she  seized  a  sword  and  with  the 
scream  of  a  wild  beast  rushed  upon  the  wretch,  who 
was  clinging  with  one  hand  to  the  rigging  of  the  pirate- 
vessel  and  with  the  other  to  the  Samian.  He  had  no 
time  to  parry  the  attack,  no  time  to  open  his  lips,  ere 
the  glittering  weapon  was  buried  to  the  hilt  in  his 
breast.  He  moved  his  head  and  neck  several  times  as 
if  stifling,  a  stream  of  blood  welled  from  his  mouth,  the 
red  cap  fell  off",  his  hands  loosed  their  grip,  and  he  fell 
headlong  into  the  dark  gulf  between  the  ships. 

A  fierce  cry  of  rage  rose  from  the  pirates;  they 
placed  ladders  against  the  trader's  bow  and  some  of 
the  boldest  sprang  on  her  deck  —  others  followed. 

Deeply  as  Glaucus  was  moved,  he  made  every 
effort  to  inspire  his  men  with  courage,  but  most  of 
them  threw  down  their  arms  and  begged  the  corsairs 
to  spare  their  lives. 

Thyamis  now  gave  orders  to  stop  the  slaughter  and 
commanded  the  sailors  and  foreign  merchants  to  leave 
the  ship  without  taking  anything  except  the  clothes 
they  wore.  The  slaves  were  compelled  to  go  in 
couples  on  board  the  pirate  craft. 

The  Samian's  boat  was  lowered  into  the  water, 
and  the  seamen  vied  with  each  other  in  leaping  in, 
believing  that  they  would  only  be  safe  when  far  away 
from  Thyamis  and  his  band.  Overcrowded  though 
this  boat  was,  there  was  no  danger;   the  sea  was  calm, 


220  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

there  were  men  enough  to  row,  and  the  distance  to  the 
nearest  of  the  Cyclades  was  not  great. 

Glaucus  and  his  wife  were  now  led  down  to  the 
Myoparian,  while  Thyamis  went  on  board  of  the  Sa- 
mian.  He  showed  his  men  where  the  ivory,  purple, 
and  gold-embroidered  carpets  from  Babylon  were  to  be 
found,  and  the  costliest  part  of  the  cargo  was  soon 
transferred  to  the  pirate  craft.  The  merchantman 
filled  faster  and  faster,  and  already  lay  considerably 
lower. 

Thyamis  ordered  his  vessel  to  be  rowed  away  from 
the  sinking  ship. 

The  darkness  had  gradually  increased  and  the 
Samian  looked  like  a  black,  shapeless  mass.  The 
part  of  the  hull  still  remaining  above  the  water  grew 
smaller  and  smaller.  Suddenly  the  stern  sank  and, 
with  a  strangely  unexpected  movement,  the  prow  rose 
high  in  the  air  for  a  moment,  then  the  great  ship  sank 
with  terrible  speed.  A  roaring  noise  like  a  whirlpool 
echoed  over  the  sea,  and  a  spot  of  whirling  snow-white 
foam  for  a  short  time  marked  the  spot  where  the  vessel 
had  gone  down. 

Glaucus,  who  had  watched  the  scene,  pressed  his 
wife's  hand. 

"  The  envious  wretches !"  he  exclaimed  with  sup- 
pressed fury.     "  It  was  my  best  and  handsomest  ship." 

Charicleia  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven  in  mute  accu- 
sation. 

Soon  after  both  were  brought  before  Thyamis,  who 
sat  in  all  his  splendor  upon  a  sort  of  throne  at   the 


TOO    HAPPY.       -  22 r 

Stern.  As  they  approached  he  rose  with  a  courtesy 
that  boded  ill. 

"  Do  not  imagine,  Glaucus,"  he  said  "  that  it  is  my 
intention  to  detain  you  and  your  wife  captive  to  extort 
a  ransom.  We  Barbarians,  though  inferior  to  you,  are 
also  men  of  honor.  Athenian,  depart  in  peace  to  your 
native  city." 

The  pirates  now  brought  a  ladder  and  fastened  it 
outside  of  the  ship,  so  that  the  end  touched  the  water; 
then  they  formed  two  ranks,  holding  flaring  torches  to 
light  the  descent  to  the  sea. 

"  I  salute  you,  Glaucus !"  added  Thyamis,  pointing 
to  the  ladder  :  "  The  way  is  open.  You  and  your  wife 
are  free !" 

Glaucus  stood  as  though  petrified  by  this  grewsome 
jest.  But  the  pirates  pressed  upon  him  with  their 
torches  and  compelled  him  and  his  wife  to  approach 
the  ladder.  Charicleia  was  deadly  pale,  and  trembled 
so  that  she  could  scarcely  stand.  Glaucus  clasped  her 
hand,  whispering : 

"  Take  courage !  Your  dearest  wish  will  be  ful- 
filled. Did  you  not  say  :  '  Let  death  come  7vhen  and 
as  it  will,  if  it  only  snatches  us  away  together.'  And 
did  you  not  yourself  accept  the  omen  ?" 

The  young  wife's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Forgive  me  !"  she  stammered.  "  I  did  not  know 
what  I  was  asking." 

With  a  look  in  which  love  conquered  the  fear  of 
death  she  raised  her  eyes  to  her   husband's  face  and 


2  22  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

threw  her  arms  around  his  neck.  Glaucus  clasped  her 
waist  and  went  slowly  down  the  steps  of  the  ladder. 

When  he  had  reached  the  last  one  he  paused  and 
glanced  up  at  the  ship.  But  at  the  sight  of  the  pirates' 
curious,  malicious  faces,  which  did  not  express  even 
the  faintest  touch  of  compassion,  he  understood  that 
all  hope  was  over  and,  too  proud  to  beg  for  his  life,  he 
pressed  Charicleia  closer  to  his  breast  and  took  the 
fatal  step  from  the  last  round  of  the  ladder. 

The  sea  closed  over  their  heads,  forming  a  small, 
swiftly  revolving  whirlpool,  and  through  this  narrowing 
circle  the  too  happy  mortals,  united  in  death  as  in  life, 
entered  the  great  unknown  country  whence  no  one 
returns. 


LYCON  WITH  THE  BIG  HAND. 


SECOND    YEAR    OF   THE    103D    OLYMPIAD    (367    B.C.) 


LYCON  WITH  THE   BIG  HAND. 


Few  young  men  in  Athens  had  so  many  acquaint- 
ances as  Lycon,  yet  he  did  not  possess  a  single  friend. 
He  was  courteous  to  all,  but  intimate  with  no  one,  had 
a  care-free  disposition,  liked  to  try  his  luck  at  astra- 
gals *  or  dice,  always  knew  where  the  best  Chian  wine 
and  the  prettiest  girls  could  be  found,  and  was  never 

*  A  game  like  knuckle-bones. 
IS 


226  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

unwilling  to  lend  an  acquaintance  a  few  drachmae. 
So  Lycon  was  universally  esteemed,  nay  people  even 
overlooked  certain  eccentricities  which  were  contradic- 
tory to  Attic  custom.  For  instance,  he  never  visited 
the  gymnasium,  and  when  some  one  spoke  to  him 
about  it,  he  carelessly  replied  : 

"  What  should  I  do  there  ?  Oratory  and  subtleties 
of  speech  I  don't  understand  —  and  why  train  my 
body  ?  I'm  strong  enough  as  I  am,  and  have  better 
uses  for  my  time." 

As  to  Lycon's  appearance  —  he  had  handsome, 
though  rather  harsh  black  hair,  manly,  somewhat  stern 
features,  large  heavy  eyebrows,  a  short  but  thick  beard, 
a  broad-shouldered,  strongly-built  frame,  and  unusually 
large  hands,  from  which  he  received  the  nickname 
Lycon  ho  makrocheir,  Lycon  with  the  big  hand. 

He  was  entered  on  the  citizens'  list  as  Lycon,  son 
of  Megacles.  But  nobody  had  known  this  Megacles, 
and  no  one  could  tell  where  the  house  of  Lycon's 
parents  stood,  or  had  stood.  All  that  was  known 
about  him  was  that,  two  years  before,  he  had  suddenly 
appeared  in  Athens  —  as  he  said,  after  a  long  residence 
in  Bithynia  where  his  father  had  died.  Now  and  then 
it  was  whispered  that  he  was  "  a  spurious  citizen,"  and 
at  one  of  the  examinations  to  which  these  lists  were  oc- 
casionally subjected,  he  was  questioned  by  the  de- 
marchs  or  district  inspectors.  To  them  Lycon  stated 
that  his  father  had  been  a  ship's  captain  and  for  many 
years  had  been  absent  from  Athens;  he  had  himself 
gone  to  sea  with  him,  and  the  rough  work  on  board 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  227 

had  given  him  large,  hard  hands.  One  of  the  de- 
marchs,  a  rich  ship-owner,  thought  he  could  entrap 
Lycon  by  questioning  him  about  the  names  of  the 
various  parts  of  a  vessel.  But  the  latter  was  at  no  loss 
for  an  answer.  This  resulted  greatly  to  his  advantage ; 
the  ship-owner  declared  himself  satisfied,  and  Lycon's 
name  remained  on  the  list. 

Still,  there  were  many  strange  things  about  him. 
For  instance,  he  knew  so  little  of  the  poets  that,  as  the 
jester  Stephanus  said,  he  might  easily  have  been  per- 
suaded that  one  of  Pindar's  odes  was  written  by 
Homer.  But,  if  any  one  laughed  at  such  stupendous 
ignorance,  Lycon  said  : 

"  You  are  laughing  at  my  pedagogue,  not  at  me. 
It  is  his  fault.  He  was  so  weak  that  he  submitted  to 
everything,  and  we  played  and  quarrelled  during  the 
time  we  ought  to  have  learned  something  useful." 

It  was  one  of  Lycon's  peculiarities  that,  though  he 
never  refused  an  invitation  to  a  drinking-bout,  he  had 
no  inclination  to  attend  any  of  the  great  festivals  to 
which  strangers  flocked  from  all  parts  of  Hellas,  the 
islands,  and  the  new  colonies,  to  see  the  processions, 
the  performances  at  the  theatre,  or  the  torchlight  races. 
On  such  days  Lycon  either  remained  at  home  in  his 
little  house  in  the  Ceriadae  suburb,  or  went  away  for 
a  short  journey,  remaining  absent  until  the  strangers 
might  be  supposed  to  have  left  Athens.  This  singular 
conduct  was  not  noticed  by  many,  for  on  holidays 
most  persons  have  enough  to  do  to  attend  to  their  own 
affairs.     But  the  few  who  did  remark  it  marvelled. 


228  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

Only  one  individual  knew  the  cause  of  Lycon's  ec- 
centricities. This  was  the  artist  Aristeides  from  The- 
bes, a  quiet,  thoughtful  young  man,  who  never  said 
more  than  he  meant.  He  enjoyed  a  high  reputation 
for  his  powerful  picture  of  the  battle  between  the  Per- 
sians and  Macedonians,  a  painting  containing  hundreds 
of  human  figures ;  but  his  master-piece  was  the  plun- 
dering of  a  captured  city,  in  which  a  dying  mother 
holds  her  delicate  babe  away  from  her  breast,  that  it 
may  not  drink  blood  instead  of  milk. 

This  Aristeides  once  went  on  a  pleasure  excursion 
with  Lycon  —  both  on  horseback,  attended  by  a  single 
slave  —  to  the  beautifully  located  Deceleia  at  the  foot 
of  Mt.  Parnes.  Wearied  by  the  noon-tide  heat,  they 
sought  shelter  on  the  way  in  the  wretched  log-hut 
owned  by  a  poor  countryman,  who  received  them  kindly, 
gave  them  a  bowl  of  fresh  goat's-milk,  and  offered 
them  his  rude  bed ;  but  it  was  so  dirty  that,  after  ex- 
changing glances,  they  begged  permission  to  lie  on  the 
hay  stored  in  the  shed  opposite.  The  man  led  the 
way  there.  Lycon  stretched  himself  comfortably  upon 
the  fragrant  hay,  yawned,  and  fell  asleep.  Aristeides 
also  slept,  but  was  roused  soon  after  by  a  movement  of 
Lycon  and,  turning  over,  suddenly  felt  broad  awake. 

Lycon's  robe  had  opened  at  the  throat,  baring  his 
shoulder.  On  the  sunburned  skin  appeared  a  large 
white  scar,  consisting  of  three  marks  which  together 
formed  a  kappa.* 

*  Kappa,  the  letter  K.  This  is  an  abbreviation  of  the  word 
Klcmma,  theft.     Slaves  were  usually  branded  on  the  forehead  (or  on 


LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  229 

*'  A  slave  !"  cried  Aristeides,  "  and  branded  !" 

At  first  he  was  almost  stupefied;  then  he  moved 
away  from  Lycon's  side  and  sat  down  on  a  log  a  short 
distance  off". 

"  Now  I  understand  everything,"  he  thought,  "  his 
fear  of  undressing  in  the  gymnasium  —  his  unknown 
origin  —  his  large  hands  —  his  ignorance  of  the  poets 
—  and  his  absence  during  the  great  festivals.  ...  So 
he  is  a  fugitive  slave,  and  has  been  punished  for  theft. 
Before  his  flight  he  probably  robbed  his  master  and  of 
no  inconsiderable  sum.  He  was  entered  in  the  citi- 
zens' list  by  bribery,  and  now  the  thievish,  branded 
slave  fives  in  Athens  as  a  free  citizen,  and  enjoys  him- 
self on  his  defrauded  master's  money." 

Aristeides  rose  to  go  to  the  city  magistrates,  but 
ere  he  left  the  shed  he  started  and  listened. 

Lycon  was  laughing  in  his  sleep. 

There  was  something  so  joyous  and  light-hearted 
in  his  laughter  that  Aristeides  involuntarily  paused. 

"  Look  !"  murmured  Lycon,  stretching  out  his  arm 
as  though  pointing,  "  now  fat  Dryas  is  jumping !  —  The 
leather  bottle  is  bursting  —  he'll  fall  —  plump  !  there 
he  lies  on  his  stomach  in  the  water." 

And  Lycon  laughed  again. 

"  No !"  said  Aristeides,  "  a  man  who  laughs  in  his 
sleep  like  a  child  is  not  wicked.  .  .  .  Who  knows 
whether  freedom  has  not  made  him  a  different  and  a 
better  man  ?     Certainly  nothing  dishonorable  is  known 

tiie  ears  or  hands.)     The  mark  seems  to  have  been  stamped  on  the 
shoulder  only  by  special  favor,  when  the  offence  was  trivial. 


230  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

about  him,  and  he  is  universally  respected,  .  .  .  Per- 
haps his  master  has  made  up  his  loss  long  ago.  Per- 
haps he  has  himself  repaid  the  stolen  money ;  he  has 
slaves  who  work  for  him.  Besides,  how  does  the  mat- 
ter concern  me  ?" 

The  artist  went  nearer  to  the  sleeper  and  looked  at 
him. 

A  pleasant  smile  was  hovering  around  Lycon's 
mouth.  "  Take  this  !"  he  muttered,  and  his  big  hand 
made  a  gesture  as  if  he  were  giving  alms." 

Aristeides  felt  a  sudden  inspiration. 

"  Had  the  gods  desired  to  punish  him,"  he  thought, 
"  they  would  have  made  him  betray  himself  to  a  foe, 
not  to  a  friend." 

Glad  to  have  found  such  a  consolation  to  his  mind, 
he  carefully  drew  Lycon's  robe  together  and  fastened 
it  at  the  neck.  His  hand  shook  a  little  as  he  did  so. 
If  Lycon  should  suddenly  open  his  eyes,  what  might 
he  not  do  in  his  despair  at  seeing  his  secret  discovered  1 

But  Lycon  slept  on.  Without  rousing  him,  Aris- 
teides went  around  into  the  shade  behind  the  house, 
where  the  slaves  were  waiting  with  the  horses.  Beck- 
oning to  Lycon's  servant,  he  said : 

"  When  your  master  wakes,  tell  him  that  a  dream  I 
had  in  my  sleep  compels  me  to  return  home  at  once. 
Beg  him  from  me  to  go  on  as  though  I  were  still  in  his 
company." 

With  these  words  he  swung  himself  on  the  horse 
and  rode  away  so  fast  that  his  slave  could  scarcely  fol- 
low him. 


LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  23I 

From  that  hour  Aristeides  held  aloof  from  Lycon, 
without  attracting  any  special  attention  from  the  latter. 
But  whenever,  later,  conversation  turned  upon  Lycon's 
eccentricities  Aristeides  found  special  gratification  in 
going  as  near  the  truth  as  possible.     He  always  said : 

"  There  is  a  sign  that  explains  them." 

Did  he  make  the  remark  from  a  vague  spite  against 
Lycon  or  a  child's  delight  in  playing  with  fire  ?  He 
did  not  know  himself-    but  he  never  said  more. 


n. 


Lycon,  who  suspected  no  evil,  continued  his  usual 
mode  of  life.  One  noon  he  went  to  the  house  of  a 
freedman  named  Opasion,  who  usually  had  gay  doings 
in  his  home,  as  he  lived  by  entertaining  young  men. 
The  little  peristyle,  scarcely  ten  feet  long,  was  filled 
with  a  noisy,  laughing  party.  Half  a  score  of  youths 
in  mantles  of  every  hue  had  formed  a  circle  around 
two  fighting  quails. 

"  I'll  bet  fifteen  drachmae  against  you,  Opasion," 
shouted  one  voice. 

"  So  will  I,"  added  a  second. 

"  Hegesias'  quail  is  braver.  See,  your  bird  is 
giving  way,  Opasion  —  it  yields  again.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 
Now  it's  outside  of  the  circle." 

"  Conquered,  conquered  !"  shouted  the  whole  party 
in  chorus,  joined  by  the  freedman. 

"  Your  bird  lost,  Opasion.     Down  with  the  money." 


232  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

The  freedman,  a  short,  stout  fellow,  with  a  foxy 
face,  lifted  a  rumpled  bird  in  the  air  and  shrieked  into 
its  ear,  as  though  trying  to  drown  the  shouts  of  victory. 
At  the  same  time  the  other  bird  was  borne  away  in 
triumph,  and  then  carefully  taken  under  its  owner's 
arm  as  if  it  were  the  most  costly  treasure. 

Lycon  walked  carelessly  on  to  the  so-called  ban- 
queting hall  found  in  every  large  house,  but  which 
usually  offered  only  a  very  limited  space.  He  cast 
a  hurried  glance  around  the  room  but  saw  no  strange 
faces.  Seven  or  eight  young  men  whom  he  met  every 
day  were  just  breakfasting,  reclining  singly  or  in  pairs 
upon  leather-covered  couches,  before  which  stood  small 
tables  bearing  numerous  spots  of  grease  and  the  marks 
of  wet  goblets. 

At  the  back  of  the  room  a  couple  of  half  naked 
boys,  slaves,  were  busily  washing  cups  and  dishes,  and 
not  far  from  them  on  a  low  chair  without  a  back  sat 
two  young  girls  from  fifteen  to  twenty  years  old. 
They  were  whispering  eagerly  together,  and  by  the 
way  they  fixed  their  eyes  on  the  young  men  reclining 
upon  the  couches,  it  was  easy  to  guess  the  subject  of 
the  talk.  Both  were  pretty,  but  their  bold  glances  and 
careless  laughter  showed  that  they  were  women  of  free 
lives,  accustomed  to  associate  with  men. 

The  older  and  larger  of  the  two  held  in  her  hand  a 
Phrygian  double  flute.  Her  back  hair  was  covered 
by  a  blue  kerchief  and  the  locks  on  her  brow  were 
adorned  with  a  clasp  of  polished  steel.  Her  whole 
costume  consisted  of  a  saftron-yellow  robe,  originally 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  233 

fine  and  costly,  now  somewhat  frayed,  open  at  the 
left  side  to  the  hip  and  fastened  up  above  the  knee 
The  younger  and  prettier,  who  was  evidently  a  jug- 
gler, as  she  rested  her  feet  on  a  box  containing  short 
swords,  balls,  and  small  bows  and  arrows,  wore  on 
her  head  a  red  hood  to  confine  her  dark  curls,  and 
moreover  was  wrapped  in  a  faded  green  mantle,  which 
she  drew  closely  around  her.  Whenever,  during  the 
conversation,  she  moved  her  hands  this  loose  upper 
dress  parted,  showing  that  she  had  a  totally  different 
under-garment  and  a  pair  of  short,  parti-colored 
breeches,  which  surrounded  her  loins  like  a  wide  belt. 

The  young  men  paid  no  attention  to  the  girls. 
Their  talk  turned  upon  the  best  way  of  getting  hold  of 
a  father's  money  during  his  life.  Opinions  seemed  to 
vary  greatly.  The  more  experienced  agreed  in  hold- 
ing aloof  from  the  matter  themselves  and  having  their 
fathers  deceived  by  a  cunning  slave,  while  those  less 
skilled  preferred  to  beg  the  money  from  their  mothers, 
on  the  threat  of  gomg  to  sea  or  enlisting  in  the  light- 
armed  troops. 

"  The  old  theme  again !"  said  I.ycon  smiling,  after 
having  greeted  and  shaken  hands  with  all  present 
except  Aristeides,  who  was  busily  cleansing  his  hands 
after  the  meal  in  the  dough  prepared  for  the  purpose. 

"  Lycon  speaks  the  truth,"  cried  a  pale-faced  young 
man  with  flabby  features,  afterwards  known  as  the 
architect  Deinocrates  "  We  must  talk  about  some- 
thing else.     This  subject  doesn't  suit  himT 

Lycon,  who  had  neither  father  nor  mother,  under- 


234  PICTURES     OF    HELLAS. 

Stood  the  concealed  sting,  but  kept  silence  in  order  not 
to  enter  deeper  into  the  matter. 

The  talk  ceased  for  a  moment;  the  god  Hermes  — 
as  the  saying  went  in  those  days  —  passed  through  the 
room.  Then  a  quick  step  echoed  over  the  flags  of  the 
peristyle,  and  a  tall  young  fellow  with  a  light  beard 
suddenly  stood  among  them.  He  seemed  to  have  just 
arrived  from  a  journey,  for  dust  lay  thick  amid  the 
folds  of  his  brown  mantle,  and  he  Avore  a  broad- 
brimmed  felt  hat. 

"  Phorion !"  cried  seven  or  eight  voices  in  a  breath, 
"  we  greet  you,  welcome  !" 

The  new-comer  flung  his  cloak  and  hat  to  one  of 
the  boys  who  came  hurrying  up,  pressed  Aristeides' 
hand,  and  lay  down  in  the  vacant  place  by  his  side. 

"  Where  are  you  from,  Phorion  ?"  asked  pallid 
Deinocrates. 

"  From  Thessaly." 

Lycon,  who  was  reclining  alone  upon  a  couch  at 
the  nearest  table,  forgot  his  barley  cake  and  raised  his 
head. 

"  From  what  city  in  Thessaly  ?" 

"  Methone  in  the  province  of  Magnesia,  on  the 
Pagasaean  Gulf." 

Aristeides'  eyes  happened  to  rest  on  Lycon,  who 
had  turned  deadly  pale  and  was  pressing  his  hand 
upon  his  breast. 

"  From  which  of  the  citizens  did  you  receive  hospi- 
tality ?"  continued  Deinocrates. 

"  From  Simonides,  dealer  in  grain." 


LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  235 

Lycon  started  so  that  he  almost  upset  the  Uttle 
table  in  front  of  the  couch. 

"  How  strange !"  exclaimed  Deinocrates  eagerly. 
"  Simonides  was  my  father's  host,  too,  and  I  have  often 
heard  him  praise  his  cheerful  temper  and  great  fond- 
ness for  the  comic  writers.  He  owns,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  many  of  old  Magnes,  the  Icarian's,  comedies  in 
the  manuscripts,  as  the  author  himself  revised  them,  and 
—  especially  in  "the  Harpers"  knows  the  merriest 
scenes  by  heart.  .  .  .  You  perceive  I  am  acquainted 
with  the  man  without  having  seen  him." 

"  Alas !  he  is  no  longer  the  same  person !"  said 
Phorion  gravely.  "  Grief  and  sickness  have  prema- 
turely aged  him.  .  .  .  All  his  misery  was  brought  upon 
him  by  a  dishonest  slave." 

Again  Aristeides  looked  at  Lycon,  but  this  time  not 
accidentally. 

The  perspiration  stood  in  big  drops  on  his  brow, 
his  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  he  passed  his  great  hand 
over  his  face  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  when 
deeply  moved. 

"  Made  miserable  by  a  dishonest  slave !"  exclaimed 
Deinocrates,  "  you  must  tell  us  about  it." 

"  The  story  is  soon  told,"  replied  Phorion.  "  But 
come  here,  boy.  Push  the  tables  aside,  brush  the 
bones  and  fruit-skins  away,  and  bring  wine,  wine !  I 
am  dying  of  thirst." 

When  everything  was  arranged,  the  slave  brought  a 
silver  vessel  and  poured  some  wine  into  it  from  an 
ancient  silver  cup,  the  show-piece  in  Opasion's  house. 


236  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Phorion  took  the  vessel.  The  flute-player  rose, 
put  her  instrument  to  her  lips,  and  began  a  subdued, 
solemn  melody. 

"  Let  this  beaker,"  said  the  young  man,  "  be  offered 
to  the  gods  of  my  native  city,  with  thanks  for  their 
gracious  protection  on  my  journey  !" 

Then  he  poured  out  some  of  the  contents  of  the 
cup. 

The  notes  of  the  flute  sounded  louder,  but  not  so 
loud  as  to  drown  the  noise  of  the  wine  falling  on  the 
smooth  stones  of  the  floor.  Then  the  subdued  melody 
followed.  Phorion  drank  a  few  sips  from  the  beaker 
and  passed  it  to  Aristeides,  who  also  took  a  little,  and 
so  it  went  the  round  of  the  party,  always  accompanied 
by  the  music  of  the  flute. 

Lycon  gazed  with  a  strangely  vacant  glance  at  the 
preparations  for  the  drinking-bout,  and  it  was  evidently 
a  relief  to  him  when  Deinocrates  asked  the  new-comer 
to  continue  his  story. 

"  About  five  years  ago,"  resumed  Phorion,  "  Simon- 
ides  bought  a  young  slave  called  Zenon," 

Hearing  this  name  so  suddenly,  Lycon  turned 
ghastly  pale  and,  half  falling  back  on  his  couch,  made 
a  groping  movement  with  his  hands,  as  though  he  had 
suddenly  been  plunged  into  the  blackest  darkness. 

Aristeides  pitied  him,  and,  to  force  him  to  control 
himself,  said : 

"  Are  you  ill,  Lycon  ?" 

Lycon  passed  his  huge  hand  over  his  face;  the 
muscles  around  his  mouth  quivered,  and  it  was  a  mo- 


LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  237 

ment  ere  he  could  mutter  a  few  words  which  sounded 
as  if  he  had  taken  too  large  a  mouthful. 

"  So,"  continued  Phorion,  "  Simonides  bought  a 
young  slave  named  Zenon.  He  hadn't  given  much 
for  him,  because  Zenon  had  robbed  his  former  master, 
a  physician  in  the  neighboring  city  of  Ormenium ;  he 
had  been  branded  and  fled  to  Poseidon's  altar  in 
Methone.  Nobody  would  buy  him,  but  when  he  fell 
weeping  at  Simonides'  feet  and  promised  to  conquer 
his  evil  propensities,  the  latter  was  touched  and  bought 
him  for  less  than  a  mina.*  For  more  than  a  year  his 
conduct  obtained  his  master's  approval  and  won  his 
favor  and  confidence.  One  day  Simonides  was  visited 
by  a  man  from  Hypata,  with  whom  he  had  business 
relations.  Zenon  waited  on  the  table  and  saw  the 
stranger  pay  Simonides  nearly  a  talent,  partly  in  ready 
money  and  partly  in  drafts  on  well-known  money- 
lenders in  Athens,  and  noticed  that  this  property  was 
placed  in  a  box  where  many  bags  of  darics  **  were 
already  kept.  The  next  morning  the  chest  where  the 
box  had  been  placed  was  found  broken  open.  The 
box  had  gone,  and  with  it  Zenon.  Simonides  sent 
mounted  messengers  to  this  city,  but  Zenon  had  al- 
ready had  the  drafts  cashed,  the  more  easily  because 
his  master's  seal  ring  was  in  the  chest. 

"  Simonides  had  the  great  robbery  and  an  exact  de- 
scription of  the  thief's  personal  appearance  proclaimed 
in  the  market  by  the  public  heralds ;    but  all  his  efforts 

*  Mina  =  equal  to  about  $20. 
**  Persian  gold  coin,  named  for  Darius,  value  a  little  over  $5. 


238  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

were  useless.  Grief  and  worry  over  this  great  loss 
broke  down  his  health.  He  was  attacked  by  paralysis, 
his  right  side  was  benumbed,  his  mouth  drawn  awry, 
and  for  a  time  he  was  almost  speechless.  The  once 
gay,  jovial  man  is  now  a  mere  shadow  of  his  former 
self.  Though  he  is  too  proud  to  complain,  I  think  the 
slaves  take  advantage  of  his  condition  and  do  what 
they  choose.  There  is  not  the  least  sign  of  the  order 
that  formerly  existed  in  the  house.  In  the  vestibule 
lay  fragments  of  broken  wine-jars,  fruit-skins,  faded 
garlands,  and  the  handles  of  burnt  torches.  Yet  not 
even  to  his  best  friend,  Polycles  the  wine-dealer,  has 
he  mentioned  their  negHgence.  The  only  complaint 
that  ever  escaped  the  lips  of  the  sick  man,  so  deserted 
by  his  servants,  was  the  wish :  '  If  I  only  had  a  son ! 
I  could  depend  upon  him.'  " 

"  By  Heracles !"  cried  one  of  the  reckless  young 
fellows,  "  he'll  find  that  wish  hard  to  get  —  weak  as  he 
is." 

"  And  why  not  ?"  replied  Phorion  gravely.  "  Of 
what  consequence  here  is  the  mere  tie  of  blood  ? 
Nothing  is  needed  except  a  son's  affection.  Yes,"  he 
added  warmly,  "  among  those  who  have  known  Simon- 
ides  in  his  days  of  happiness,  why  should  there  not  be 
one  person  that  would  take  pleasure  in  coming  to  the 
sick  man's  help  and  making  amends  for  the  wrong 
others  have  done  him  ?" 

Opasion  thrust  his  foxy  face  from  behind  one  of  the 
pillars,  and  noticing  that  the  conversation  had  almost 
ceased,  made  a  sign  to  the  young  girls. 


LYCGN    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  239 

The  flute-player  began  a  lively  tune ;  the  juggler 
threw  off  her  shabby  upper-robe  and  took  from  the  box 
she  used  as  a  foot-stool  nine  short  swords  whose  handles 
ended  in  a  sharp  point.  These  swords  she  stuck  firmly 
into  the  cracks  between  the  flag-stones,  placing  them 
in  two  rows,  all  with  their  keen  two-edged  blades  in 
the  air.  Then  she  stepped  between  them  and,  after 
straightening  her  short  breeches  a  httle,  walked  on  her 
hands,  to  the  music  of  the  flute,  between  the  weapons, 
then  rising  turned  somersaults  over  them  so  swiftly  that 
the  eye  could  scarcely  follow  the  movements  of  her 
slender,  pliant  body. 

This  was  the  dangerous  sword-dance,  always  greatly 
admired. 

The  young  men  clapped  their  hands  and  shouted 
their  plaudits. 

"  What  ought  not  a  man  to  be  able  to  accomplish," 
exclaimed  Deinocrates,  "  when  a  woman  can  learn  to 
leap  so  boldly  between  swords  ?" 

Aristeides  had  not  watched  this  scene ;  his  eyes 
were  fixed  on  Lycon.  The  latter  had  risen.  He  was 
a  little  paler  than  usual  and  stood  gazing  into  vacancy 
with  a  strange  look,  as  if  he  saw  something  far,  far 
away.  Something  extraordinary  seemed  to  be  occupy- 
ing his  thoughts,  and  he  repeatedly  passed  his  huge 
hand  over  his  face. 

Then,  apparently  by  chance,  he  approached  Pho- 
rion.  "  I'm  £oing  to  Thessaly  in  a  few  days,"  he  said 
in  a  tone  which  he  endeavored  to  make  as  careless  as 
possible,  "  and  shall  probably  visit  Methone.     If  you 


240  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

wish,  Phorion  I  will  carry  your  regards  to  Simon- 
ides." 

"  Do  so,  and  if  you  can,  be  his  guest  for  a  short 
time.  Perhaps  there  is  reason  to  report  the  servants' 
conduct  to  the  magistrates.  His  daughter  Myrtale, 
according  to  his  own  account,  is  a  child  of  seventeen 
who  cannot  rule  slaves.  But  one  thing  you  must  know 
in  advance  —  the  door-keeper  turns  all  strangers  away; 
it  is  not  easy  to  get  into  the  house." 

"  I  shall  get  in  "  said  Lycon. 


III. 


A  FEW  days  after  Lycon  might  have  been  seen 
with  a  large  travelling-hat  on  his  head  riding  along  the 
road  between  Halus  and  Iton  in  the  province  of  Phthi- 
otis  in  Thessaly.  He  had  sold  his  house  in  Athens 
and  all  his  slaves  except  one,  a  slender  boy  named 
Paegnion  who,  carrying  a  bundle  suspended  from  a 
stick  over  his  shoulders,  accompanied  him.  He  himself 
had  a  similar  bundle  fastened  to  his  horse ;  in  his  hand 
he  held  a  switch  cut  from  the  trunk  of  a  vine  and, 
when  his  cloak  blew  aside,  the  handle  of  a  short  sword 
appeared  in  his  belt.  Beside  Paegnion  walked  a  young 
slave  from  Halus,  who  was  to  take  the  hired  horse 
back." 

It  was  a  pleasant  summer  morning  when  Lycon 
rode  down  the  stony  road  over  a  spur  of  Mt.  Othrys. 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  241 

Before  him  on  his  left  hand  rose  huge  Hmestone 
clitfs,  their  sides  overgrown  with  poplar,  plane,  and 
ash-trees,  and.  their  summits  covered  with  thorny  tra- 
gacanth  bushes.  Far  below,  one  smiling  valley  lay 
beside  another  and  through  them  all  the  river  Amphry- 
sus  wound  in  glittering  curves.  The  morning  mists 
still  rested  on  the  wide  landscape,  revealing,  ever  and 
anon,  a  glimpse  of  distant  cities  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountains  and  undulating  plains,  with  yellow  grain- 
fields  and  luxuriant  vineyards,  interspersed  here  and 
there  with  clumps  of  fig-trees  and  groves  of  dwarf  and 
stone  oaks.  Far  at  the  right  the  white  marble  temples 
of  a  city  glimmered  against  the  dark-blue  waters  of  a 
bay  in  the  Pagasaean  gulf  On  the  other  side  of  the 
valley  rose  lofty  hills,  and  beyond  them  —  at  the  far- 
thest point  of  view  —  the  two  snow-capped  peaks  of 
Pelion  towered  into  the  air. 

Lycon  let  his  gaze  wander  over  the  broad,  sun- 
steeped  landscape,  and  inhaled  with  pleasure  the  pure 
mountain  air.  Freedom  had  never  seemed  to  him 
more  alluring.  The  nearer  he  approached  Methone, 
the  more  anxiously  he  asked  himself  whether  he,  who 
for  years  had  lived  as  a  free  citizen,  must  again  sink 
into  a  wretched,  subservient  bondman.  He  fancied  he 
already  felt  on  his  neck  the  pressure  of  the  wooden 
ring  by  which  sweet-toothed  slaves  were  prevented 
from  raising  their  hands  to  their  lips ;  he  imagined  he 
had  fetters  on  his  limbs  and  the  heavy  block  dragging 
after  him,  and  he  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  the 
smoking  iron  and  its  hissing  on  the  skin. 

16 


242  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

Who  told  him  he  would  escape  this  punishment  ? 
Had  he  not  stolen  a  second  time  ? 

"  By  Zeus!"  he  muttered,  "  I'm  afraid  I  have  made 
the  dog's  throw."  * 

But,  remembering  how  he  had  altered  during  the 
past  few  years,  he  suddenly  exclaimed :  "  No,  I  will 
not  return  as  Zenon,  but  as  Lycon." 

He  had  incautiously  uttered  the  last  words  aloud 
and,  starting,  looked  around  him.  The  strange  slave 
had  paid  no  heed;  but  it  was  important  for  him  to 
know  whether  Paegnion  had  heard  them. 

He  beckoned  to  the  boy,  bent  down  from  his  horse, 
and  took  him  by  the  ear. 

"  Did  you  hear  what  I  said  ?"  he  asked  curtly. 
"  Tell  the  truth." 

"  I  believe  so,"  stammered  Paegnion,  somewhat 
bewildered  by  this  sudden  attack. 

"  Repeat  my  words." 

"  I  will  not  return  as  Zenon,  but  as  Lycon." 

Lycon  drew  his  short  sword  and  placed  its  point 
against  Paegnion's  bare  breast.  The  lad  uttered  a 
loud  shriek. 

'  Did  you  ever  cut  yourself  with  a  knife  ?"  asked 
Lycon.  "  Then  think  what  you  will  feel  if  I  thrust 
now.  Well  then!  If  you  repeat  one  word  of  what  I 
said,  I  will  drive  this  sword  into  you,  if  it  were  at  the 
altar  of  the  gods.     So  guard  your  mouth." 

Without  listening  to  Paegnion's  assurances,  he  gave 

*  The  worst  throw  in  a  game  of  dice. 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  243 

the  horse  a  Hght  blow  with  his  whip  and  continued  his 
way  down  to  the  valley. 

The  next  day  Lycon  was  riding  up  the  Street  of  the 
Bakers  in  Methone,  at  whose  en^  was  seen  the  sea  with 
the  ships  where  he  had  learned  the  nautical  expressions 
that  had  proved  so  useful  to  him  with  the  district  in- 
spector at  Athens.  Though  no  anxiety  was  apparent 
in  his  bearing,  his  heart  beat  faster  than  usual.  There 
was  no  change  in  the  little  city ;  it  seemed  as  though 
he  had  never  been  away,  he  recognized  every  house, 
every  wall,  every  stone.  He  was  obliged  to  wait  a 
moment  at  the  laurel-tree  and  statue  of  Hermes,  out- 
side of  Simonides'  house,  ere  he  could  control  his 
voice  sufficiently  to  say  to  Paegnion  :    "  Knock  !" 

Paegnion  seized  the  copper  ring  on  the  door  and 
rapped  loudly.  The  door-keeper  was  not  at  his  post. 
It  was  a  long  time  before  he  came  and  drew  the  bolt, 
and  he  opened  the  door  no  wider  than  was  necessary 
to  thrust  out  his  hand.  Lycon  recognized  in  him  an 
old  slave  named  Satyrus,  who  had  a  sullen  face  and 
lazy  bearing. 

At  sight  of  the  youth  in  travelling  dress,  he  said 
harshly  :  "  What  do  you  want  ?  My  master  is  sick 
and  receives  no  one."  With  these  words  he  slammed 
the  door  so  that  the  whole  house  shook.  Lycon 
signed  to  Paegnion,  who  knocked  again.  "  My  good 
fellow,"  he  called,  "  announce  me  to  your  master.  'J'ell 
him  I  am  Lycon  the  Athenian,  son  of  Megacles,  and 
that  I  bring  a  greeting  and  message  from'Phorion,  who 
was  his  guest  a  short  time  ago.     The  door-keeper  went 


244  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

grumbling  away.  At  last  he  returned,  opened  the  door, 
and  said  in  a  milder  tone : 

"  Come  in,  he'll  speak  to  you." 

Sending  away  the  boy  with  the  hired  horse,  Lycon 
entered  the  dwelling.  Anxious  as  he  felt,  he  noticed 
that  the  appearance  of  the  vestibule  agreed  exactly 
with  Phorion's  description.  There  was  dirt  and  dis- 
order in  every  corner. 

While  crossing  the  peristyle,  Lycon  addressed  a  few 
words  to  Paegnion.  At  the  sound  of  his  voice  a  young 
girl  who  was  just  gliding  into  the  women's  apartment, 
stopped,  turned  her  head,  and  fixed  upon  him  a  look 
of  wonder  and  surprise,  but  ere  he  had  time  to  notice 
her  she  had  vanished  through  the  door.  He  had  only 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  blue  robe  and  a  pair  of  question- 
ing dark  eyes.  Was  it  Myrtale,  whom  he  had  last  seen 
as  a  child,  and  with  whom  he  had  often  played  in  the 
garden  and  at  Simonides'  country-seat  ? 

Absorbed  in  these  thoughts,  Lycon  had  walked  so 
rapidly  tOAvards  the  room  usually  occupied  by  the 
master  of  the  house  that  old  Satyrus,  the  door-keeper, 
found  it  hard  to  keep  up  with  him. 

"Queer!"  he  muttered,  "  though  you  are  a  stranger, 
one  would  suppose  you  knew  the  house." 

Lycon  saw  that  he  had  been  on  the  point  of  be- 
traying himself,  but  he  was  quick-witted. 

"  Of  course  I  know  the  house,  my  good  fellow,"  he 
replied  smiling  —  from  my  friend  Phorion's  descrip- 
tion." 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  245 


IV. 


SiMONiDES  was  just  breakfasting.  On  seeing  how 
weak  and  feeble  he  had  become,  Lycon  could  scarcely 
control  his  emotion,  and  it  cut  him  to  the  heart  when 
he  saw  the  crooked  mouth  —  the  mark  paralysis  had 
stamped  upon  him  for  life. 

"Thief!"  bethought;  "it  is  your  work !"  and  he 
passed  his  big  hand  over  his  face  to  hide  his  tears. 
He  longed  to  throw  himself  at  his  master's  feet  and 
clasp  his  knees. 

Simonides  did  not  rise  when  Lycon  entered,  but 
gave  him  his  hand  and  greeted  him  kindly. 

"Welcome!"  he  said.  "You  are  Phorion's  friend, 
I  hear,  and  bring  a  greeting  and  message  from  him. 
How  is  his  blind  father  ?  Does  Praxagoras,  the  phy- 
sician from  Cos,  think  he  will  succeed  in  restoring  his 
lost  sight  ?" 

Lycon  could  not  answer;  he  knew  nothing  about 
Phorion's  father. 

"  How  is  his  wife,  who  was  so  ill  after  the  birth  of 
her  last  child  ?" 

Lycon  knew  nothing  of  Phorion's  wife  either.  He 
felt  extremely  uncomfortable,  tried  to  turn  the  conver- 
sation into  another  channel  and,  by  way  of  explana- 
tion, added  carelessly  : 

"  I  know  Phorion  only  in  the  market,  the  arcades, 
and  other  places  where  men  daily  meet  in  Athens. 
He  has  never  spoken  of  his  family." 


246  PICTURES     OF    HELLAS. 

Simonides  raised  his  head  and  looked  intently  at 
Lycon. 

"  Ah  I"  he  exclaimed,  apparently  with  some  little 
disappointment.  "  I  thought  that  you  and  Phorion 
were  intimate  friends.  There  is  an  old  acquaintance- 
ship between  us,  dating  from  the  time  Avhen  his  father 
and  I  were  both  young." 

The  conversation  now  took  a  different  turn,  as 
Simonides  asked  for  news  from  Athens.  This  was  a 
subject  on  which  Lycon  could  talk,  and  the  more 
freely  because  relieved  from  his  worst  fear.  Simonides 
evidently  had  not  recognized  him.  His  long  hair  and 
thick  beard,  especially  his  heavy  eyebrows,  which  he 
had  had  clipped  very  frequently  to  make  them  large 
and  bushy,  had  entirely  changed  his  appearance. 

Simonides  had  offered  his  guest  some  refreshments 
after  his  journey.  In  the  long  time  that  elapsed  before 
they  were  brought  Lycon  saw  a  confirmation  of  the 
bad  condition  of  household  affairs.  He  also  noticed 
that  two  goblets  stood  on  the  little  table;  of  course 
Simonides  had  had  a  companion  at  his  meal,  doubtless 
his  daughter,  Myrtale,  who,  according  to  the  universal 
Hellenic  custom,  had  left  the  room  when  the  door- 
keeper announced  a  stranger.  She  was  probably  the 
young  girl  of  whom  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  in  the 
peristyle. 

After  the  meal  Simonides  offered  to  let  a  slave 
called  Conops  show  Lycon  around  the  city.  He 
called,  but  no  one  came.  He  rapped  repeatedly  on 
the  floor  with  his  cane  :    but  no  one  seemed  to  hear  — 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  247 

the  veins  on  Lycon's  forehead  swelled  and  his  heavy- 
eyebrows  met  in  a  frown. 

"  Wretches  !"  he  muttered. 

''  Be  not  angry,  Simonides,"  he  added  warmly, 
clasping  his  hand  in  both  his  own,  "  be  not  angry  if, 
though  a  stranger,  I  speak  freely  of  things  which  do 
not  concern  me.  Let  me,  I  beg  you,  talk  in  your 
name  to  these  sluggards.  Imagine  that  I  am  your  son 
and  have  returned  from  a  long  journey.  Come  !  Lean 
on  my  arm,  let  us  go  about  the  house  and  see  what  the 
slaves  are  doing." 

Simonides  fixed  a  puzzled  glance  upon  Lycon. 

"Stranger,"  he  said,  "you  speak  singular  words. 
You  have  not  been  half  so  long  under  my  roof  as  the 
water-clock  needs  to  run  out,  yet  you  seem  to  read  the 
wishes  of  my  soul.  Who  are  you,  young  man  ?  Your 
voice  is  strangely  familiar,  yet  no.  .  .  .  you  speak  the 
Attic  dialect  so  purely  that  Phorion,  who  was  bom  in 
the  city,  has  no  better  accent." 

With  these  words  he  rose  slowly,  by  the  help  of  his 
cane,  and  took  Lycon's  arm. 

"  Another  person,"  he  added,  "  might  perhaps  be 
angry  with  you  or  feel  offended.  I  am  neither.  It  is 
seldom,  very  seldom,  that  a  careless  youth  has  so 
much  affection  for  a  sick  and  feeble  man.  Come,  my 
son  —  let  me  call  you  so  —  try  whether  you  can  help 
me  to  restore  the  discipline  of  the  house,  but  do  not 
suppose  that  the  victory  will  be  an  easy  one.  Thistles 
which  have  grown  all  the  year  are  not  uprooted  by  the 
first  jerk.      If  you  could  stay  with  me  for  a  time  —  yet 


248  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

I  will  not  urge  you,"  he  added  smiling  faintly,  "  that 
vou  may  not  say  you  are  drubbed  into  accepting  the 
invitation.  A  resident  of  Athens  will  scarcely  waste 
time  on  our  little  city." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?"  said  Lycon,  smiling.  "  I  will 
gladly  stay,  if  you  believe  that  I  can  serve  you." 

Simonides  had  difficulty  in  dragging  himself  on- 
ward. Fortunately  the  distance  was  not  great;  in 
ancient  times  the  houses  were  small,  supplied  with  nu- 
merous corners,  it  is  true,  but  covering  little  space. 
Supported  by  Lycon's  arm,  Simonides  walked  through 
the  short  colonnade  outside  of  the  men's  rooms ;  in  the 
little  peristyle  of  the  women's  apartment,  where  he  was 
forced  to  stop  a  moment  to  rest,  no  human  being  ap- 
peared and  the  small  chambers  occupied  by  the  slaves, 
—  half  a  score  of  dungeon-like  cells,  —  all  stood  empty. 
The  same  state  of  affairs  existed  in  the  women's  work- 
room. In  the  door  leading  to  the  garden  sat,  or  rather 
lay,  one  of  the  youngest  slaves  of  the  household,  a 
light-haired  boy  seven  or  eight  years  old.  He  had 
leaned  his  head  against  the  door-post  and,  overcome 
by  the  noonday  heat,  had  fallen  asleep. 

"Look!"  whispered  Lycon,  pointing  to  the  boy, 
"  fortune  favors  us.  The  sentinel  is  slumbering  at  his 
post.     We  shall  come  upon  them  unawares." 

Loud,  merry  talk  reached  them  from  the  garden. 

"  Conops  has  slept  on  the  bench  long  enough," 
said  a  harsh  voice,  not  without  a  shade  of  envy. 

"  How  he  snores  !"  added  another. 

"  Only  a  swine-herd  can  snore  like  that." 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  249 

"  Pour  some  wine  into  his  mouth." 

"Tickle  him  on  the  nose  with  a  straw." 

*'  Put  a  frog  on  his  neck." 

The  last  proposal  was  greeted  with  shrill  laughter. 

Lycon  pushed  the  sleeping  boy  away  with  his  foot 
and,  in  the  midst  of  the  slaves'  noisy  mirth,  the  master 
of  the  house  and  his  guest  suddenly  stood  among  them. 

A  strange  spectacle  was  presented  to  their  eyes. 
On  a  roughly-made  couch,  which  had  been  carried  into 
the  shade,  lay  the  largest  and  strongest  of  the  slaves, 
the  swine-herd  Conops,  almost  naked,  snoring  loudly 
with  his  mouth  wide  open.  Close  around  him  stood 
those  who  had  proposed  to  wake  him,  and  behind  this 
group  some  half  nude  boys,  lying  flat  on  the  ground, 
were  playing  dice,  while  a  couple  of  older  slaves  sitting 
at  a  table  were  quietl}'  drinking  a  tankard  of  wine 
which  they  had  forgotten  to  mix  with  water.  Still 
farther  away  some  young  men  were  romping  on  a 
bench  beneath  some  blossoming  Agnus-castus  trees 
with  two  slave-girls  who,  at  the  sight  of  the  new- 
comers, started  up  with  a  loud  shriek  and,  covering 
their  faces  with  their  hands,  fled  around  the  nearest 
corner  of  the  house. 

Lycon  did  not  speak  a  word  to  the  slaves,  but  as 
he  turned  slowly  with  Simonides  to  go  back  to  the 
dwelling  by  the  same  path,  he  said  as  though  continu- 
ing an  interrupted  conversation : 

"  My  advice  is  this :  Sell  them  all  to  the  mines  in 
Laurium  —  they  will  be  cured  of  laziness  there  —  and 
buy  new  ones,  even  if  you  have  to  ])ay  more  for  them." 


250  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

He  had  spoken  loud  enough  for  the  nearest  slaves 
to  hear  every  word. 

Work  in  the  mines  of  Laurium  was  considered  the 
hardest  slave-labor  in  Hellas.  What  terror  and  con- 
sternation therefore  seized  upon  the  pampered,  idle 
slaves  in  Simonides'  house  at  the  prospect  so  suddenly 
opened  before  them. 

A  low,  but  eager  murmur  instantly  arose  behind 
the  retreating  figures.  Many  were  talking  at  the  same 
time  and  in  an  angry  tone. 

"Do  you  hear?"  said  Lycon  to  Simonides,  "the 
medicine  is  beginning  to  work." 

The  old  man  pressed  his  hand. 


V. 


Lycon  let  himself  be  shown  around  the  city  by  the 
boy  he  had  found  sleeping  with  his  head  against  the 
door-post,  and  invented  errands  to  many  of  the  citizens 
but  none  of  them  recognized  him. 

Meantime  his  young  slave,  Paegnion,  was  saunter- 
ing idly  about  the  house.  He  was  tired,  so  he  wel- 
comed the  event  when  some  one  unexpectedly  spoke 
to  him  in  the  peristyle  of  the  women's  apartment. 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  lad  ?"  asked  a  gay, 
musical  voice  from  one  of  the  little  openings  in  the 
wall  facing  the  peristyle 

Paegnion  looked  up.  All  he  saw  inside  the  small 
opening  was  a  delicate  white  hand,  which  had  drawn 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  25 1 

aside  the  Coan  curtain,  some  shining  braids  of  brown 
hair,  a  gold  fillet,  and  a  pair  of  mischievous  black  eyes, 
whose  sparkle  vied  with  the  fillet. 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  lad  ?"  the  voice  repeated. 

"  Paegnion." 

"  A  pretty  name  !  Are  many  boys  in  Athens  called 
Paegnion  as  well  as  you  ?" 

"  Some,  but  not  many." 

"  Has  your  master  a  pretty  name  too  ?" 

"  He  is  called  Lycon." 

"  Has  he  no  other  name  ?" 

Paegnion  was  silent. 

"  Well  then !"  said  the  gay  voice  in  a  strangely  con- 
temptuous tone,  and  the  hand  moved  as  though  to 
close  the  curtain. 

Paegnion  feared  the  conversation  was  over. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  hastened  to  ask. 

"  I  thought  Attic  youths  were  more  clever  than 
others  —  so  clever  that  their  masters  could  never  con- 
ceal anything  from  them.  Now  I  see  that  the  Athe- 
nian lads  are  no  brighter  than  our  own." 

Paegnion  felt  a  little  nettled. 

"  I  cou/d  answer  you,  if  I  chose"  he  muttered 
roughly. 

"  And  why  don't  you  choose,  Paegnion  ?" 

"  Because  I  don't  want  to  be  thrust  through  the 
breast  with  a  long  knife." 

"  Empty  threats !  And  you  care  for  them  ?  A 
boy  like  you  isn't  easily  killed.  .  .  .  No,  say  rather 
that  you  know  nothing." 


252  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

And  again  the  delicate  hand  moved  as  if  to  drop 
the  curtain. 

"  But  I  do  know  something,"  Paegnion  hastened  to 
reply.     "  He  has,  as  you  say,  another  name." 

"Who  told  you  so?" 

"  He  himself." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?" 

"  That  I  won't  tell." 

"  Are  you  so  timid,  Paegnion  ?  I  thought  the 
Attic  boys  were  braver.  Besides,  what  do  you  risk  by 
telling  me,  a  woman  ?  I  shall  never  see  your  master, 
never  have  a  chance  to  speak  to  him  —  what  do  you 
fear  ?" 

Paegnion  reflected  a  moment. 

"No!"  he  cried  resolutely,  "  I  dare  not !  He  might 
find  out." 

"  That's  a  pity !  I  thought  you  would  earn  some 
money.  Look !"  the  young  girl  continued,  holding 
out  a  number  of  small  flat  silver  coins  in  a  box  and 
showing  them  to  Paegnion,  "here  are  twelve  triobols." 

The  lad  gazed  covetously  at  the  glittering  coins. 

"  Twelve  triobols,"  he  repeated  with  a  crafty  smile, 
"and  I  Tum. fifteen  years  old." 

"  You  shall,  have  three  more.  But  make  haste, 
somebody  might  come.     What  did  vour  master  say  ?" 

Paegnion  looked  around  him. 

"  On  the  way  here,"  he  whispered,  advancing  close 
to  the  wall,  "  my  master  rode  for  a  time  absorbed  in 
thought ;  then  he  suddenly  exclaimed  :  '  No,  I  will 
not  return  as  Zenon,  but  as  Lycon.'  " 


LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  253 

"  I  knew  it !"  cried  the  girl  and,  forgetting  the 
money,  she  clapped  her  hands  so  that  the  obols  fell  on 
the  ground  and  rolled  about  in  every  direction. 

Paegnion  was  not  slow  in  picking  up  his  treasure. 

"  The  three  triobols,"  he  then  said,  "  the  three  tri- 
obols  you  promised  me." 

The  girl  disappeared  from  the  opening.  A  mo- 
ment after  a  fold  of  the  curtain  was  raised  and,  if 
Paegnion  had  had  eyes  for  it,  he  might  have  seen  a 
beautiful  white  arm  bared  to  the  shoulder,  but  the  lad 
was  more  intent  upon  obols  than  arms. 

At  this  moment  the  back  door  of  the  garden 
creaked  on  its  rusty  hinges,  and  Paegnion  ran  with  all 
his  might  to  the  little  guest-room  at  the  corner  of  the 
house,  which  had  been  assigned  to  him  and  his  master. 

When  Lycon  —  for  it  was  he  —  was  crossing  the 
small  courtyard  on  the  way  to  the  guest-room  he  saw 
that  the  household  slaves,  half  a  score  in  all,  had  as- 
sembled there.  Some  were  carrying  hay  from  a  large 
cart  into  a  bam,  others  were  pouring  water  over  the 
rude  wheels,  consisting  of  round  wooden  disks,  to 
cleanse  them  from  lumps  of  clay,  and  others  were 
standing  idle  in  the  shade.  But,  whether  busy  or  not, 
there  was  an  air  of  malevolence  about  them  and  not 
one  uttered  a  word.  The  prospect  of  forced  labor  in 
the  Laurium  mines  rested  like  a  dark  cloud  on  every 
face. 

The  big  swine-herd,  Conops,  held  in  his  hand  a 
bunch  of  dry  leaves  with  which  he  was  wiping  the 
sweat  from  the  heaving  flanks  of  a  mule. 


254  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Lycon  passed  quietly  on  to  the  guest-room,  where 
he  called  to  Conops  in  a  curt,  authoritative  tone  : 

"  Open  the  door.  You  see  I  am  carrying  some- 
thing under  my  cloak." 

The  huge  fellow  did  not  stir. 

Lycon  beckoned  to  the  little  boy  and  gave  him  his 
bundle. 

"  Don't  you  know,"  he  then  said  to  Conops,  that 
I  am  your  master's  guest,  and  that  you  should  obey  a 
guest  as  you  would  your  master  himself?" 

"  Perhaps  that  is  the  custom  in  Athens,"  replied 
Conops  impudently,  looking  at  the  others.  "  In  Me- 
thone  slaves  do  what  they  choose." 

Lycon's  great  hand  suddenly  fell  upon  Conop's 
cheek.  So  violent  was  the  blow  that  the  swine-herd 
reeled  several  paces  aside,  struck  his  head  against  the 
stable-wall,  and  scratched  one  of  his  ears.  Dizzy  and 
confused  as  he  was,  he  was  servile  enough  to  recognize 
in  the  hand  that  struck  such  a  blow  a  superior  power, 
Avhich  it  would  not  do  to  defy. 

"What  a  cuff!"  he  muttered,  wiping  away  the 
blood  which  streamed  from  his  ear  upon  his  brown 
shoulder  then,  glancing  at  the  others  again,  he  added 
with  evident  admiration  of  the  blow :  "  I  never  had 
such  a  knock  before." 

"The  door!"  said  Lycon  curtly. 

Conops  opened  it  without  a  word. 

Lycon  now  turned  to  the  slaves  and  informed  them 
that  the  order  of  the  household  must  and  should  be 
restored.     No  one  would  be  overburdened  with  work; 


LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  255 

but,  if  each  did  his  share,  there  would  seem  to  be  less  to 
be  done.  Then  he  represented  to  the  slaves  who  had 
been  born  in  Simonides'  house  how  shamefull)'  they 
had  behaved  in  consulting  only  their  own  convenience, 
while  their  master  was  ill  and  helpless,  needing  more 
than  anything  else  careful  attendance. 

He  soon  succeeded  in  touching  the  hearts  of  the 
slaves  and,  when  he  perceived  it,  he  added  that  Si- 
monides would  forgive  and  forget  everything  if  within 
three  days  they  would  bring  him  the  household  instru- 
ments of  punishment  which  they  had  thrown  away  and 
broken.  If  one  of  the  older  slaves  fulfilled  this  de- 
mand, Simonides  would  make  him  overseer  of  the 
others,  but  should  they  persist  in  their  negligence  their 
master,  with  an  Attic  slave-dealer's  assistance,  would 
sell  them  to  the  mines. 


VI. 


Early  the  next  morning,  while  the  dew  was  still 
sparkling  on  the  leaves  and  in  the  grass,  Simonides' 
daughter,  Myrtale,  a  girl  of  seventeen,  came  out  of  the 
women's  apartment  into  the  garden.  She  had  thrown 
over  her  head  a  red  scarf  with  small  white  stars,  from 
beneath  which  fell  her  thick  dark-brown  locks.  Her 
figure,  though  not  tall,  was  well  developed,  and  its 
delicately-rounded  outlines  were  fully  displayed  by  the 


256  PICTURES     OF    HELLAS. 

red  robe  she  wore.  The  httle  Methonian  bore  no  re 
semblance  to  the  stately  marble  caryatides  which  as 
images  of  the  Attic  virgins  adorned  the  vestibule  of  the 
Erechtheum ;  but  her  whole  figure  was  so  instinct  with 
life  and  youth  that  no  eye  could  help  lingering  on  it 
with  pleasure.  Even  the  swine-herd,  Conops,  turned 
his  clumsy  head  to  watch  her  as  she  passed  and 
among  the  slaves,  who  half  neglected  and  half  admired 
her,  she  was  never  called  anything  but  he  pais,  "  the 
child." 

Myrtale,  however,  was  a  child  who  had  a  will  of 
her  own  and  a  very  determined  one.  Having  early 
lost  her  mother,  she  had  had  no  female  companionship 
except  her  nurse,  who  indulged  her  in  everything.  She 
had  been  educated  in  a  much  freer  manner  than  was 
usually  the  case  with  Hellenic  maidens.  She  took  her 
meals  with  her  father,  even  when  his  friend  Polycles, 
the  wdne-dealer,  visited  him.  When  Polycles  noticed 
that  the  young  girl  did  not  lack  intelligence  he  often 
asked  her  opinion,  and  this  pleased  Simonides,  who 
spoiled  his  only  child  and  treated  her  more  like  a  son 
and  heir  than  like  a  daughter. 

Nay,  when  Simonides,  during  his  days  of  health, 
read  aloud  the  plays  of  Magnes,  the  Icarian,  Myrtale, 
at  that  time  a  girl  of  thirteen  or  fourteen,  was  usually 
present  and  stimulated  by  the  unbridled  laughter  of 
the  two  friends,  understood  much  that  had  been  previ- 
ously incomprehensible,  and  caught  many  an  allusion 
which  the  two  men  did  not  suspect  that  she  could 
comprehend.     In    this   way   Myrtale   had   learned   to 


,LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  25/ 

know  more  of  the  world  and  life  than  other  young  girls 
who  spent  their  days  in  a  virgin  chamber.* 

The  slaves'  negligence,  the  only  thing  that  could 
have  shadowed  her  youth,  disturbed  her  far  less  than  it 
troubled  her  father,  since  she  always  had  her  faithful 
nurse  with  her  and  —  thanks  to  the  freedom  granted 
her — enjoyed  her  life  like  a  careless  child,  to  whom 
the  present  moment  is  everything. 

When  Myrtale  came  out  into  the  garden  early 
that  morning,  she  stood  still  for  a  time  irresolute  but, 
woman-like,  not  idle.  Seeing  how  dark  and  wet  the 
ground  was  and  what  big  drops  glittered  in  the  grass, 
she  instantly  set  to  work  to  fasten  up  her  dress  that  it 
might  not  be  soiled  by  dampness.  Then  she  tripped 
on  through  maples,  ivy,  and  vines  twined  around  poles 
which  rested  on  stout  posts,  towards  the  most  secluded 
part  of  the  garden.  When  she  reached  the  bee-hives 
and  heard  the  buzzing  of  the  insects,  she  paused  a  mo- 
ment, laughed  softly,  and  said  to  herself  with  a  mis- 
chievous little  smile  : 

"  Now  I  know  what  to  do  —  he  shall  be  forced  to 
confess  everything."  Seeing  some  superb  white  lilies, 
she  left  her  silver-embroidered  sandals  in  the  garden- 
path  and  skipped  on  her  little  bare  feet  into  the  wet 
grass.  While  gathering  the  flowers  she  felt  as  though 
ants  were  crawling  on  her  and,  raising  her  dress  a  little, 
looked  over  her  shoulder  at  her  ankles,  carefully  exam- 
ining each.     The  pretty  girl  thought  herself  alone  and 

"  Part  of  the  women's  apartment. 
17 


258  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

unobserved,  and  there  was  something  so  bewitching  in 
her  whole  appearance  that  it  would  have  been  a  pity 
not  to  have  had  a  witness. 

But  there  was  a  witness. 

Lycon,  who  had  been  unable  to  sleep  all  night,  be- 
cause each  passing  day  brought  the  decision  of  his  fate 
nearer,  had  gone  out  into  the  garden  early  and  seated 
himself  on  a  bench  in  the  nearest  thicket.  From  his 
green  ambush  not  one  of  Myrtale's  movements  escaped 
his  notice.  Had  he  been  familiar  with  Homer,  he 
would  have  thought  that  she  resembled  Danae,  Acris- 
ius'  daughter,  and  deserved  the  name  of  Calhsphyrus, 
the  maid  with  the  beautiful  calves.  But  Lycon  knew 
nothing  of  Homer,  so  he  contented  himself  with  mut- 
tering : 

"  Is  that  Myrtale  ?     How  pretty  she  has  grown." 

Yet  he  did  not  go  to  meet  her.  Of  course  she 
would  have  been  frightened  by  the  sight  of  a  strange 
man.  And  what  should  he  talk  about  ?  He  had 
nothing  to  say  to  her. 

While  Myrtale  was  putting  on  her  sih'er-wrouglit 
sandals,  a  black  and  white  goat,  with  trailing  tether, 
came  running  towards  her.  She  glanced  at  the  wet, 
rough-coated  animal,  then  at  her  light  dress  and,  draw- 
ing back,  clapped  her  hands  violently  to  frighten  the 
creature  away.  But  the  goat  did  not  understand.  It 
merely  stopped  in  its  run  and  approached  slowly,  hold- 
ing its  head  very  high,  evidently  supposing  the  move- 
ment of  her  hands  a  challenge  to  play.  With  the  mis- 
chievousness  natural  to  this  animal  it  suddenly  made  a 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  259 

couple  of  short,  frolicsome  leaps,  lowered  its  head  and 
sharp  horns,  and  darted  towards  the  young  girl. 

Without  hesitation  Myrtale  pulled  up  the  nearest 
flower-stake  and  defended  herself  against  the  goat. 
But  the  animal,  now  it  was  once  in  fighting  mood, 
constantly  renewed  the  attack  and  the  young  girl 
found  it  more  and  more  difficult  to  keep  the  creature  at 
bay.  She  was  therefore  more  pleased  than  alarmed 
when  the  bushes  rustled  and  Lycon  sprang  out  and 
seized  the  goat's  tether. 

Myrtale  silently  put  back  the  flower-stake,  and 
busied  herself  in  tying  up  the  plant. 

For  some  time  neither  spoke. 

"  Are  you  Myrtale,  Simonides'  daughter  ?"  asked 
Lycon,  as  he  watched  the  pretty  Methonian  with  a 
pleasure  he  had  never  felt  before. 

Myrtale  nodded  assent. 

"  Are  you  Lycon,  the  Athenian,  my  father's  guest  ?" 
•she  inquired,  without  raising  her  eyes  to  the  stranger's 
face. 

Lycon  had  scarcely  time  to  reply,  for  the  goat  now 
renewed  its  attack  upon  him.     He  laughed  : 

"  Come,  my  kid.  You  shall  learn  that  I  am  not 
called  Lycon  with  the  big  hand  for  nothing." 

Seizing  one  of  the  goat's  horns  with  one  hand,  and 
its  little  tail  with  the  other,  he  lifted  the  mischievous 
animal  from  the  ground  so  that  its  four  legs  hung 
loosely  down.  \Mien  he  set  it  on  the  earth  again  the 
•creature   was    thoroughly   cowed.     Bleating    feebly,   it 


26o  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

unresistingly  allowed  itself  to  be  dragged  back  to  the 
grass-plot  from  which  it  had  escaped. 

At  the  beehives  Myrtale  managed  to  have  Lycon 
pass  tolerably  near  them.  While  the  insects  were 
buzzing  most  thickly  around  him,  she  suddenly  ex- 
claimed : 

"  A  bee,  a  bee !"  and  laying  her  hand  on  Lycon's 
neck  added :  "  Don't  you  feel  any  pain  ?  It  must 
have  stung  you.  I  saw  it  creep  out  from  under  your 
robe." 

Lycon  denied  feeling  any  hurt. 

"Let  me  see  your  shoulder!"  continued  Myrtale. 
"An  old  woman  from  Hypata  taught  me  two  magic 
words  with  which  the  stings  of  wasps  and  bees  can  be 
instantly  cured." 

"  It  is  unnecessary,"  replied  Lycon  curtly. 

"  Do  as  I  beg  you,"  urged  Myrtale. 

"  Girl !"  cried  Lycon  impatiently,  "  you  ask  foolish 
things.  ...  I  will  not  do  it." 

Myrtale's  eyes  flashed,  the  color  in  her  cheeks 
deepened,  and  she  suddenly  stopped. 

"  Zenon,"  she  said,  raising  her  voice,  "  I,  the 
daughter  of  your  master  Simonides,  command  you  to 
do  it." 

If  the  earth  had  opened  at  Lycon's  feet  he  could 
not  have  been  more  surprised  and  horrified  than  by 
these  words. 

"Merciful  Gods!"  he  exclaimed,  turning  pale  and 
clasping  his  hands,  "  how  do  you  know  ?  —  Who  has 
told  you  ?" 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  261 

"  Silence  !"  said  Myrtale  sternly.  "  Neither  my 
father  nor  the  slaves  recognized  you,  but  1  knew  you 
at  the  first  sound  of  your  voice,  though  you  now  speak 
the  Attic  dialect.  You  are  Zenon,  do  not  deny  it. 
Shall  I  call  Conops  and  the  others,  and  have  your 
robe  torn  off?  There  is  a  kappa  on  your  shoulder;  I 
know  it." 

"  Oh,  miserable  man  that  I  am !"  exclaimed  Lycon, 
wringing  his  hands,  while  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
''  I  have  seen  you  to  my  destruction."  And  falling  at 
Myrtale's  feet,  he  clasped  her  knees,  adding :  "  How 
shall  I  answer  ?     What  am  I  to  say  ?" 

"The  truth." 

"  Ah,  I  will  conceal  nothing,  but  tell  you  a  secret 
which  is  the  key  of  my  soul.  Know  that  I  am  not,  as 
you  suppose,  slave-born.  My  parents  were  free  and 
lived  in  Carystus  at  Euboea.  My  father  was  overseer 
of  the  slaves  in  the  marble  quarries.  During  my  child- 
hood he  Hved  comfortably ;  but  afterwards  he  began  to 
drink,  became  involved  in  debt,  and  with  his  wife  and 
child  was  sold  into  slavery.  Yet,  with  my  free  birth,  I 
had  obtained  a  different  temper  from  that  of  a  slave. 
The  scourge  humbled  far  more  than  it  hurt  me,  and  1 
could  not  laugh  with  the  rest  when  the  pain  was  over. 
Day  and  night  I  plotted  to  gain  my  freedom  and,  as  I 
could  not  purchase  it,  I  resolved  to  steal  it.  To  be 
free  I  could  have  robbed  the  gods  themselves.  The 
first  time  I  failed  —  I  was  caught  and  branded.  The 
next  I  was  more  successful.  .  .  .  There  —  now  you 
know  my  crime." 


262  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

And  he  then  told  her  about  his  happy  Hfe  in 
Athens,  his  deep  repentance  at  Phorion's  description  of 
Simonides'  illness,  and  his  determination  to  restore  the 
discipline  of  the  household  in  order  to  obtain  forgive- 
ness. 

Myrtale  did  not  lose  a  single  word,  but  while 
Lycon  was  kneeling  before  her  she  noticed  that  his 
tearful  eyes  were  very  handsome,  and  that  a  delicate 
odor  of  ointment  rose  from  his  hair.  The  power  of 
trifles  has  always  been  great,  especially  with  women. 
This  perfume  made  a  strange  impression  upon  her. 
For  a  moment  she  forgot  that  Lycon  was  a  slave,  and 
compared  him  in  her  mind  with  the  son  of  their  neigh- 
bor the  baker,  who  after  having  spent  ten  days  in 
Athens  went  as  foppishly  clad  and  moved  as  stiffly  as 
the  Athenian  dandies.  She  looked  at  Lycon's  broad 
shoulders  and  sinewy  arms  —  and  whatever  the  cause, 
she  felt  more  kindly  disposed. 

"  You  are  a  strange  person,"  she  said,  gazing  into 
Lycon's  eyes.  "  Who  and  what  are  you  ?  .  .  .  .  Half 
Athenian  and  half  Methonian,  half  citizen  and  half 
slave,  half  Lycon  and  half  Zenon.  I  will  do  as  my 
father  once  did  :  I  will  trust  you,  though  perhaps  I  am 
unwise." 

With  these  words  she  was  hurrying  towards  the 
house,  but  Lycon  seized  a  fold  of  her  robe. 

"  Myrtale,"  he  said,  "  believe  me,  a  good  emotion 
induced  me  to  return.  Consider  how  free  from  care 
my  life  was  in  Athens,  and  what  I  have  risked.  Do 
not  make  me  miserable  —  do  not  prematurely  reveal 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  263 

my  secret,  so  that  your  father  will  refuse  me  his  for- 
giveness !  He  who  has  once  been  free  is  of  no  value 
as  a  slave." 

Myrtale  noticed  the  shudder  that  ran  through  his 
limbs,  and  felt  strangely  moved.  She  read  in  Lycon's 
eyes  the  anguish  he  was  suffering  and  to  console  him 
said  : 

"  Have  no  fear !  Myrtale  does  not  hate  Lycon.  .  .  . 
I  have  never  forgotten  how  kind  you  were  to  me  when 
I  was  a  child.  I  still  have  the  little  cart  you  made  for 
me." 

"  And  I,"  said  Lycon,  deeply  moved  as  he  seized 
her  arm  and  kissed  it,  "  I  did  not  suppose  that  little 
Myrtale  would  become  such  a  girl  —  so  good  and  so 
beautiful !" 

Myrtale  smiled. 

"  Now  Lycon  is  forgetting  Zenon  I"  she  replied, 
and  raising  her  light  dress,  ran  off  towards  the  house. 

But  Lycon  was  by  no  means  cheerful.  On  the 
contrary  he  was  very  anxious  at  knowing  his  secret 
was  in  a  woman's  keeping.  "  The  sooner  I  speak  to 
Simonides  the  better,"  he  thought. 


VIL 

Two  days  after,  just  as  Lycon  had  breakfasted  with 
the  master  of  the  house,  Carion,  the  old  slave,  entered. 
Lycon  was  going  to  rise  and  leave  the  room,  but  Si- 


264  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

monides  took  him  by  the  arm  and  made  him  keep  his 
place  on  the  edge  of  the  couch. 

"  Master,"  said  old  Carion,  "  I  have  come  to  ask 
for  myself  and  the  rest  of  the  slaves  that  you  will  for- 
give and  forget.  If  you  only  will  not  sell  us  to  the 
mines,  we  will  obey  you  in  everything  and,  as  a  token 
of  our  submission,  we  bring  you  the  household  imple- 
ments of  punishment,  all  ot  them,  and  in  good 
condition. 

Simonides  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears,  and 
turned  to  his  guest  in  speechless  surprise.  Lycon 
laughed  in  his  sleeve. 

At  a  sign  from  Carion,  two  young  slaves  entered 
and  laid  at  their  master's  feet  large  and  small  whips, 
iron  collars,  fetters,  stocks,  branding  irons,  neck-wheels, 
and  the  so-called  "  tree,"  which  served  as  a  pillory  and 
at  the  same  time  inflicted  the  torture  of  sitting  in  a 
doubled  up  position.  Bringing  in  all  these  articles 
consumed  time  enough  to  enable  Simonides  to  regain 
his  composure. 

Without  showing  his  satisfaction  in  the  presence  of 
the  slaves,  he  replied  that  he  would  grant  their  petition 
and  forgive  what  had  happened.  No  one  should  suffer 
oppression,  but  if  any  one  did  wrong  he  would  be  pun- 
ished. Carion,  the  first  who  had  given  an  example  of 
obedience,  would  be  made  overseer  of  the  others,  and 
in  token  that  he  himself  was  ready  to  forget  what  had 
happened,  each  of  them  would  be  received  that  even- 
ing as  if  he  were  entering  his  master's  house  for  the 
first  time.      He  should    be    led    to  the    hearth  by  the 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  265 

overseer  and  there  receive  figs,  dried  grapes,  nuts,  and 
small  pastry  cakes,  in  token  that  there  was  an  abun- 
dance in  the  house  and  he  would  lack  nothing. 

Simonides  then  ordered  the  slaves  to  carry  the  in- 
struments of  punishment  to  the  room  intended  for 
them. 

Scarcely  was  he  alone  with  Lycon  ere,  with  over- 
flowing affection,  he  pressed  him  to  his  brea.st. 

"  By  all  the  gods  of  friendship !"  he  exclaimed, 
*'  tell  me  by  what  magic  you  have  accomplished  this  ?" 

Lycon  now  mentioned  the  chastisement  he  had 
given  Conops,  and  the  demand  he  had  made  of  the 
slaves  in  their  master's  name  under  the  penalty  of  labor 
in  the  mines. 

Simonides  grasped  Lycon's  hand  and  pressed  it  in 
both  his  own. 

"  Though  a  stranger,"  he  said,  "  you  have  fulfilled 
my  dearest  wish  and  restored  order  to  my  household. 
May  the  gods  bless  you  for  it !  To  my  dying  day  I 
shall  remember  this  time  as  a  happy  hour.  But  tell 
me,  my  son,  is  there  nothing  you  desire,  nothing  I  can 
do  for  you  ?" 

Lycon  averted  his  face.  Now,  in  this  decisive  mo- 
ment, which  he  had  anticipated  during  so  many  days 
and  nights,  he  could  not  force  himself  to  utter  a  single 
word. 

"  My  son,"  persisted  Simonides,  "  there  is  some- 
thing that  weighs  up<jn  your  heart.  Do  not  deny  it. 
By  Zeus,  I  want  to  se*e  only  happy  faces  to-day.  So, 
tell  me  what  it  is." 


266  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

Lycon  sprang  from  the  couch  and  threw  himself  at 
Simonides'  feet. 

"  Pardon,  Master  !"  he  faltered,  "  I  am  not  worthy 
to  be  your  guest." 

"  What  fire-brand  are  you  casting  into  my  bosom," 
cried  Simonides,  half-raising  himself  on  the  couch  as, 
seized  by  a  dark  foreboding,  he  gazed  with  dilated  eyes 
at  the  kneeling  figure. 

Lycon  turned  deadly  pale.  Grasping  a  fold  of  Si- 
monides' robe,  he  said  in  a  voice  almost  choked  with, 
emotion  : 

"  Master.  .  .  .  don't  you  know  me  ?  .  .  .  .  I  am 
your  slave  Zenon." 

"  Wonder-working  Gods !"  exclaimed  Simonides 
doubtfully,  "  what  am  I  compelled  to  hear !" 

"  Mercy,  Master,  mercy  !" 

Simonides,  uttering  a  fierce  cry,  kicked  Lycon 
away  with  his  foot. 

"  Thief,"  he  shouted,  trembling  with  rage,  "  miser- 
able thief,  you  have  stolen  my  money  and  my  health, 
what  do  you  seek  in  my  house  ?  Have  you  come  here 
to  rob  me  a  second  time  ?  .  .  .  .  For  two  years  I  have 
not  suffered  your  name  to  be  spoken  in  my  hearing.  .  .  . 
Begone,  begone  from  my  sight,  you  source  of  my 
misery  —  you  destroyer  of  the  happiness  of  my  life!" 

And  as  Lycon  still  lingered,  Simonides  pointed  to 
the  door  of  the  peristyle,  shouting  imperatively :  "  Go, 
go,  I  command  you  I" 

Lycon  left  the  room  with  drooping  head,  without 
casting  a  glance  behind.     He  no  longer  had  a  hope. 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  267 

At  the  same  moment  the  curtain  at  the  door  of  a 
side-chamber  stirred  sHghtly,  and  soon  after  Myrtale 
entered  and  silently  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  the 
couch  at  her  father's  feet.  She  was  very  pale,  and 
through  the  folds  of  her  thin  dress  the  rapid  rising  and 
falling  of  her  bosom  showed  that  she  was  struggling 
for  breath.  Simonides  scarcely  seemed  to  notice  her 
and,  without  moving  or  looking  up,  she  waited  patiently 
for  him  to  speak. 

At  last  he  broke  the  silence. 

"  Do  you  know  who  Lycon  is  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"  And  you  did  not  tell  me  ?" 

"  It  was  his  business  to  confess,  not  mine." 

"  What  do  you  advise,  Myrtale  ?" 

"To  wait  until  to-morrow." 

"  Why  ?" 

"  To  let  Lycon  sentence  himself"  , 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  One  of  two  things  will  happen  —  either  he  will 
run  away  during  the  night  and  then  his  solicitude  for 
himself  will  be  greater  than  his  repentance,  or  he  will 
stay,  and  then  his  repentance  will  be  deep  enough  to 
make  him  prefer  to  suffer  everything  rather  than  not 
obtain  your  forgiveness." 

Simonides  drew  Myrtale  towards  him  and  stroked 
her  pretty  brown  hair. 

"  Polycles  is  right,"  he  said,  "  your  name  ought  to 
have  been  Metis  *  and  not  Myrtale.  .  ,  .     But  will  not 

*  r'rudence,  ingenuity. 


2  68  PICTURES    OF     HRI.LAS. 

Lycon  take  advantage  of  the  night  to  steal  from  me 
again  ?" 

Myrtale  made  no  reply,  but  the  lines  around  her 
mouth  expressed  so  much  wrath  and  scorn  that  Simon- 
ides  in  surprise  looked  at  her  more  closely.  A  glitter- 
ing streak  ran  from  her  eyes  down  over  her  cheeks. 

"  So  you  trust  him  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  do  trust  him,"  replied  Myrtale  so  earnestly  that 
her  father  remained  silent  a  long  time. 

"  Was  I  too  severe  ?"  he  said  at  last. 

Myrtale  did  not  answer. 

"  Remember,  child,  that  the  service  he  has  ren- 
dered to  me  is  nothing  in  comparison  to  the  crime  he 
committed.  If  his  own  sin  had  not  made  me  ill,  I 
should  never  have  needed  his  assistance." 

The  next  morning,  while  Lycon  was  uncertain 
whether  he  ought  to  go  to  Simonides  or  wait  for  the 
latter's  orders,  a  boy  entered  and  said : 

"  Simonides  asks  Lycon  to  come  to  him." 

This  message  showed  he  was  not  to  be  treated  as  a 
slave. 

"  I  will  come,"  Lycon  hastily  replied,  and  when 
the  lad  had  gone  he  fairly  leaped  into  the  air  in  his 
dehght. 

Before  he  had  left  the  guest-room  he  remembered 
that  during  his  restless  sleep  he  had  had  a  dream.  In 
his  childhood  he  had  often  seen  a  little  boy,  the  son  of 
poor  parents,  known  by  the  name  of  unlucky  Knemon, 
because  he  looked  so  doleful  that  everybody  slapped 
and  pushed   him   because   he   really  seemed   to  invite 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  26^ 

cuffs.  This  boy  had  appeared  to  him  in  the  dream. 
Lycon  tried  to  push  him  aside  —  but  at  the  same  mo- 
ment the  lad  was  transformed  and  Eros  himself  stood 
smiling  before  him,  a  garland  of  roses  on  his  hair. 
Gazing  intently  at  Lycon  he  shook  his  finger  at  him. 
Lycon  thought  of  Myrtale  and  murmured :  "  I  accept 
the  omen." 

This  dream  now  returned  to  his  mind. 

"  Yes,"  he  exclaimed,  "  yesterday  I  was  a  doleful, 
unlucky  Lycon  ;  I  invited  a  beating  —  so  Simonides 
kicked  me.  .  .  .  Would  a  dog  get  so  many  blows  if  it 
did  not  crouch  before  its  master  ?  Well,  I  will  be 
braver  to-day." 

With  these  words  he  took  up  the  two  bundles  he 
had  brought  with  him  from  Athens. 

"  What  have  you  there  ?"  asked  Simonides,  as  he 
saw  Lycon  enter  with  a  package  under  each  arm. 

"  Not  my  property,  but  yours,"  replied  Lycon. 

Simonides  understood  that  the  parcels  contained 
the  ready  money  and  articles  of  value  Lycon  had 
brought  with  him  from  Athens. 

"  Put  them  there,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  small 
cabinet. 

Lycon  laid  the  bundles  down. 

"  Tell  me,"  Simonides  continued,  "  what  did  you 
think  about  your  position  in  the  city  ?" 

"  Nothing  —  by  Zeus  !"  said  Lycon,  as  though 
amused  by  his  own  freedom  from  anxiety.  "  I  had  so 
much  to  do  in  becoming  acquainted  with  people  and 
things  in  Athens,  that  I  forgot   both   past  and  future 


270  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

and,  when  I  heard  Phorion  speak  of  your  iUness  and 
your  servants'  laziness  and  negligence,  I  was  so  busy 
in  selling  my  house  and  slaves  to  hasten  to  your  assist- 
ance that  not  until  during  the  journey  here  did  I  find 
an  opportunity  to  think  of  scourges,  fetters,  and  brand- 
ing-irons—  in  short  of  all  that  might  await  me." 

"  Did  it  not  occur  to  you  to  run  away  during  the 
night  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Lycon ;  "  but  I  said  to  my- 
self: 'Then  it  would  have  been  better  not  to  come  at 
all.'     So  I  stayed." 

"  Were  you  not  afraid  of  being  enslaved  again  ?" 

"No,"  said  Lycon  quietly;  "you  would  not  do 
that.  You  know  that  a  man  who  has  lived  for  years 
as  a  free  citizen  cannot  become  a  bondsman." 

"  Well,  by  Hera !"  exclaimed  Simonides  laughing, 
"  you  are  a  strange  mortal.  Yesterday  you  were  all 
humility,  and  to-day  you  dictate  what  I  am  to  do. 
Yet  I  like  Lycon  better  to-day  than  yesterday !  Take 
one  of  my  slaves  with  you,  look  about  the  city  and 
return  at  dinner  time ;  by  that  time  I  shall  have  con- 
sidered what  will  serve  you  best." 


Yin. 

Accompanied  by  the  gigantic  Conops,  who  had 
volunteered  his  services,  Lycon  went  to  the  market. 
It  was  a  little  open  square,  one  side  occupied  by  the 
council-hall,  a  pretty  new  pillared  building,  another  by 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  27 1 

an  ancient  temple  of  Poseidon,  one  of  the  noteworthy- 
objects  in  the  city,  a  third  by  an  arcade  used  for  a 
shelter  in  rainy  weather,  and  the  fourth  by  the  houses 
of  the  citizens. 

Though  it  was  still  early  in  the  day,  the  place  was 
crowded.  Lycon  found  entertainment  in  looking 
about  him  for,  although  only  in  miniature,  this  market- 
place was  an  image  of  the  one  in  Athens. 

Country  people,  standing  in  booths  made  of  inter- 
woven green  branches,  were  selling  fresh  cheese,  eggs, 
honey,  oil,  fruit,  and  green  vegetables ;  one  or  two 
potters  were  loudly  praising  their  painted  jars ;  bakers' 
wives  were  half  concealed  behind  huge  piles  of  bread 
and  cakes,  and  young  flower-girls  sat  among  their 
bright-hued,  fragrant  wares,  busily  making  wreaths. 
Freemen,  as  well  as  male  and  female  slaves,  wandered 
among  the  booths,  bargaining  here  and  there,  while 
youths  in  light  mantles,  with  embroidered  fillets  around 
their  hair,  jested  with  the  prettiest  saleswomen.  But 
the  most  successful  person  was  a  fieurospastes,  the 
owner  of  a  puppet-show,  who  had  taken  his  stand  on  a 
spot  generally  used  for  a  slave-mart.  Unseen  himself, 
he  pulled  the  hidden  strings  which  set  the  ugly  pup- 
pets' bodies  in  motion  so  that,  to  the  delight  of  the 
children  and  their  pedagogues,  the  figures  made  the 
most  ridiculous  gestures. 

Lycon  had  stopped  a  moment  to  look  at  the  busy 
puppets  and  the  laughing  children,  Avhen  a  strange, 
deafening  noise  was  suddenly  heard. 

It  seemed  as  though  a  countless  number  of  chains 


272  PICTURES    OK    HELLAS. 

were  falling  with  a  prolonged,  rattling  clash  into  a 
measureless  depth,  yet  it  was  impossible  to  tell  whence 
the  sound  came.  It  filled  the  earth  and  the  air,  and 
withal  was  so  mighty,  so  startling,  that  all  jest,  all 
conversation  ceased.  Even  the  animals  were  roused 
fi-om  their  usual  repose,  and  the  swallows  which  had 
been  darting  and  twittering  about  the  market-place 
and  up  and  down  the  long  Street  of  the  Bakers,  sud- 
denly gathered  into  flocks  and  soared  screaming  into 
the  air  as  if  trying  to  escape  some  danger. 

No  one  remembered  having  heard  anything  like  it; 
no  one  knew  what  it  was.  But,  from  the  people  who 
came  thronging  up,  it  was  soon  learned  that  the  noise 
had  been  just  as  loud  inside  the  most  closely  shut 
rooms  in  the  houses  as  in  the  open  market-place  and 
just  as  near  and  distinct  in  each  remote  part  of  the  city, 
nay  even  on  the  ships  in  the  port.  The  crews  of  the 
vessels  declared  that  the  sound  came  from  the  water. 

Only  one  old  smith,  a  man  almost  a  hundred  years 
of  age,  seemed  to  suspect  the  cause.  He  shook  his 
head  anxiously,  but  would  not  speak  freely.  "  I  may 
be  wrong,"  he  said,  "  but  take  my  advice.  Keep  out 
of  the  houses  —  that  will  perhaps  save  many  a  life." 

Lycon  felt  as  though  some  misfortune  was  impend- 
ing. Accompanied  by  Conops,  without  knowing  where 
he  was  going,  he  had  walked  down  to  the  harbor, 
where  he  had  not  been  since  his  return  to  the  city. 
The  view  here  oft'ered  to  his  gaze  was  so  magnificent 
and  beautiful  that  it  made  the  same  impression  as  if  he 
were  beholding  it  for  the  first  time.     Ere  long  he  felt 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  273 

his   mind    relieved    and    his    former   hght-heartedness 
return. 

What  should  happen  ?"  he  said  to  himself.    "  Can 
a  summer  day  be  clearer  or  brighter  than  this  ?" 

The  sun  rode  high  in  the  heavens.  Not  a  cloud 
was  visible  far  or  near,  and  not  a  breath  of  air  was  stir- 
ring. About  thirty  boats  and  small  vessels  were  lying 
at  a  quay  built  of  large  limestone-blocks  —  the  ones 
whose  masts  were  seen  from  the  Street  of  the  Bakers. 
On  the  right  the  gaze  rested  upon  the  highest  part  of 
the  city,  above  which  rose  the  distant  mountains  of 
Pherae ;  at  the  left  the  smiling,  fertile  coast  extended 
almost  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  towering  upward 
into  a  spur  of  Pelion.  Over  the  green  water  of  the 
bay,  that  glittered  like  a  mirror,  fishing  boats  and 
pleasure  craft  glided  past  each  other  and  beyond,  like 
a  broad  dark-blue  stripe,  appeared  the  Pagasaean  Gulf, 
which  melted  into  the  open  sea,  flashing  like  gold  in 
the  sunshine.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  gulf  rose 
the  promontory  of  Pyrrha,  while  through  the  mists  of 
distance  gleamed  the  coast-cities,  and  behind  them  the 
ridge  of  the  Othrys  mountains,  over  which  led  the  road 
to  Locris,  Boeotia,  and  Attica. 

Lycon  stopped  at  the  first  of  the  little  vessels, 
whose  owner,  an  old  sailor  named  Dorion,  he  had  for- 
merly known.  The  sight  of  this  man  vividly  brought 
to  mind  what  strangely  different  fates  the  same  years 
may  bring.  While  he  himself  had  been  in  Athens, 
seeing  and  hearing  so  many  new  things  that  his  mem- 
ory could  scarcely  retain  them,  Dorion  had  daily  sailed 


274  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

to  and  fro  across  the  same  corner  of  the  bay  to  get  and 
sell  sand.  Yet  he  seemed  content,  and  when  Lycon 
entered  into  conversation  with  him  he  told  him  with 
joyous  satisfaction  that  his  boat  was  new,  that  his  sons 
had  built  it,  and  that  it  was  large  enough  for  him  to 
make  longer  voyages. 

"  But,"  cried  Dorion,  suddenly  interrupting  himself 
and  springing  into  the  bow,  "  look,  look,  how  the  sea 
is  falling!  Holy  Dioscuri!  What  is  happening  before 
our  eyes  ?  .  .  .  .    I  never  saw  the  water  run  out  so  fast." 

"  It  is  the  second  marvel  to-day,"  said  Lycon. 
"  What  can  it  mean  ?" 

Even  while  they  were  speaking  the  boat  and  all  the 
other  small  vessels  sank  lower  and  lower,  so  that  the 
lime-stone  quay  seemed  to  tower  far  above  them. 
Confused  shouts  and  shrieks  echoed  from  one  craft  to 
another  and  a  moment  after  the  inner  bay,  except  for  a 
few  pools  of  water,  lay  as  dry  as  a  heath,  ^^'here  the 
glittering  surface  of  the  waves  had  just  extended, 
nothing  was  now  seen  save  the  greyish  sand  over- 
grown here  and  there  with  large  and  small  patches  of 
sea-weed.  The  little  vessels  which  a  short  time  before 
were  flitting  about  far  out  on  the  water,  now  lay  on  dry 
ground,  keeling  over  upon  one  side,  and  their  crews 
were  seen  like  small  black  dots  standing  around  them 
uncertain  what  to  do. 

Conops,  who  had  watched  what  was  occurring  with 
less  indifference  and  dullness  than  usual,  now  made  an 
apt  remark. 

"  If  the  bay  had  been   a  drinking  cup,"   he  said. 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  275 

■"  and  there  was  an  invisible  mouth  reaching  from  one 
shore  to  the  other,  the  water  could  not  have  been 
drained  quicker  —  in  five,  six  long  swallows." 

"  What  1"  cried  Dorion  suddenly,  "  if  I  see  aright, 
the  water  is  returning." 

Lycon  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand  and  looked 
out  towards  the  bay.  The  mass  of  water  was  moving 
across  the  cove  like  a  rampart  nine  or  ten  ells  high,  the 
crest  and  bottom  white  with  foam,  and  at  a  velocity 
greater  than  that  of  a  man  running  at  full  speed.  He 
saw  the  billow  roll  under  the  craft  resting  on  the 
ground,  raise  them  aloft,  and  sweep  them  onward  in  its 
own  mad  course. 

Followed  by  Conops,  he  leaped  into  Dorion's  boat, 
shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice  to  the  people  in  the 
other  vessels : 

*'  Loose  the  boats  from  the  quay !  ...  or  the  water 
will  fill  them  and  drown  us  all." 

These  words  ran  from  mouth  to  mouth. 

Then  a  thundering  roar  echoed  from  the  approach- 
ing mass  of  water,  it  buried  the  quay  in  snowy  foam, 
raised  one  boat  after  another,  —  not  without  partially 
filling  them  —  and  bore  them  with  furious  speed  up  the 
Street  of  the  Bakers,  which  lay  straight  before  the 
landing-place. 

Lycon,  Dorion,  and  Conops  had  succeeded,  with 
the  help  of  oars  and  poles,  in  keeping  their  craft  clear 
of  trees  and  houses.  As  if  in  a  dream  they  heard  wild 
cries  of  terror  and  saw  the  two  buildings  nearest  the 
harbor  sink  under  the  force  of  the  water,  while  some  of 


276  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

the  small  vessels  were  stranded  on  the  fallen  walls  and 
pillars. 

Soon  after  another  surge  came  rollmg  in  and,  amid 
fresh  shrieks  from  drowning  men,  swept  the  boats 
farther  on  into  the  middle  of  the  long  street.  Lycon 
saw  with  delight  that  Simonides'  house  stood  uninjured, 
though  the  water  was  more  than  half  way  over  the 
door. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  human  figures  were 
seen  on  the  roofs  of  the  nearest  houses,  and  they  heard 
the  shrieks  and  wails  of  women,  which  reminded 
Lycon  of  the  lamentations  daily  resounding  during  the 
Adonis  festival  in  Athens.  But  it  was  easy  to  perceive 
that  this  was  a  more  serious  matter  for,  with  the  shrieks 
mingled  the  shouts  of  numerous  men  calling,  each 
from  his  own  side  of  the  street,  to  the  boats  for  aid. 

Lycon's  heart  swelled  with  a  humanity  as  warm  as 
the  greatness  of  the  peril  surrounding  him.  Springing 
to  the  stern  he  shouted  to  the  men  in  the  nearest 
boats : 

"  Friends !  let  us  thank  the  gods  for  our  own  deliv- 
erance by  saving  as  many  of  these  unfortunates  as 
possible.  Let  nine  or  ten  of  the  boats  row  about  in 
the  next  street.  There  is  enough  for  us  all  to  do  until 
evening,  though  there  seems  to  be  only  one  street 
besides  this  under  water." 

"  The  Athenian  is  right,"  replied  a  voice  from  an- 
other vessel.  "  Let  us  do  what  we  can  for  the  city. 
Have  we  not  all  acquaintances  and  friends  here  ?" 

Lycon  and  Dorion  now  rowed  the  boat  to  Simon- 


LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  277 

ides'  house.  There  was  only  one  person  to  be  seen  on 
the  roof —  Paegnion. 

"  Where  are  Simonides  and  his  daughter  ?"  asked 
Lycon. 

"On  the  roof  of  the  women's  apartment." 

"  And  where  are  the  slaves  ?"  enquired  Conops. 

"  On  the  stable." 

Lycon  poled  the  boat  between  the  buildings.  Sud- 
denly it  was  shaken  from  stem  to  stern  by  a  strange, 
mysterious  shock,  which  congealed  the  blood  in  Ly- 
con's  veins.  This  shock  was  repeated,  though  the 
boat  was  floating  in  water  three  ells  deep  and  had  not 
run  against  anything. 

At  the  same  moment  a  cry  of  horror  ran  from  roof 
to  roof 

"  Seiei,  seiei  !  The  earth  is  shaking,  it's  an  earth- 
quake." 

Lycon  now  understood  that  the  day's  prodigies,  the 
noise  and  the  flood,  were  connected  with  what  was  oc- 
curring. 

Though  neither  of  the  shocks  had  lasted  longer 
than  the  short  time  required  for  a  man  to  raise  his  arms 
and  let  them  fall  again,  the  result  was  terrible ;  two  of 
the  houses  in  the  street  sank  crashing  into  the  water 
with  the  hapless  people  on  their  roofs.  Fortunately 
the  ruins  formed  a  heap  large  enough  to  enable  most 
of  the  inmates  to  keep  themselves  above  the  tide  until 
the  boats  could  come  to  their  assistance. 

Lycon  perceived  that  there  Avas  no  time  to  lose. 
Anxiously  as  his  own  heart  throbbed,  he  encouraged 


278  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Dorion  and  Conops.  They  took  off  Paegnion,  though 
not  without  difficulty  and,  uniting  their  strength,  urged 
the  boat  towards  the  women's  apartment. 

But  between  the  buildings  the  dark,  muddy  water 
moved  in  a  powerful  stream  and,  as  Dorion  unluckily 
broke  his  oar,  the  boat  was  swept  with  irresistible  force 
past  the  corner  of  the  women's  apartment  out  into  the 
garden.  Here  it  struck  against  the  tops  of  some  bushes 
and  suddenly  struck  fast  between  the  trunks  of  two  trees 
concealed  at  the  bottom  by  the  water  and  at  the  top 
by  leaves.  It  required  a  long  time  and  much  exertion 
to  release  it  from  this  position,  and  the  task  was  not 
accomplished  until  after  the  water  had  reached  a  level 
in  the  flooded  streets,  so  that  the  current  was  less  swift. 
When  they  at  last  succeeded  in  getting  back  to  the 
women's  apartment,  they  found  it  impossible  to  save 
Simonides  and  his  daughter  without  the  help  of  a 
ladder. 

Lycon  was  beginning  to  get  impatient  over  these 
delays,  for  the  day  was  waning. 

Conops  knew  that  there  ought  to  be  a  ladder  in  the 
stable,  but  when  the  boat  reached  the  place  it  had  dis- 
appeared. After  some  search  it  was  found  where  they 
least  expected  to  discover  it.  A  rude  two-wheeled 
harvest  cart  had  caught  on  a  marble  monument  by  the 
side  of  the  house,  and  the  pole  of  this  cart  had  acci- 
dentally run  between  the  rounds  of  the  ladder  and  held 
it  fast. 

It  was  not  without  fresh  difficulties  that  they  suc- 
ceeded in  raising  the  ladder  to  the  roof  of  the  women's 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  279 

apartment;  and  it  was  high  time,  for  the  stars  were 
beginning  to  twinkle  in  the  sky,  Lycon  found  Simon- 
ides  and  Myrtale  in  a  very  exhausted  condition ;  the 
clothing  of  both  was  drenched  with  water,  and  they 
had  spent  the  whole  afternoon  in  dread  lest  the  house 
should  yield  to  the  pressure  of  the  flood  and  sink  be- 
neath it.  The  overseer  Carion,  who  had  helped  Myr- 
tale carry  her  father  up  the  stairs,  had  vainly  sought  to 
obtain  dry  garments ;  nothing  could  be  found  in  the 
little  rooms  under  the  roof. 

Simonides  was  shaking  so  violently  with  a  feverish 
chill  that  his  teeth  chattered ;  his  eyes  were  closed  and 
he  muttered  now  and  then  a  few  unintelligible  words; 
but  when  Lycon  carried  him  down  to  the  boat  he 
pressed  his  hand.  When  Lycon  turned  to  bring  Myr- 
tale she  was  already  standing  by  her  father's  side. 
Light  and  agile  as  the  pretty  little  creature  "  which 
shades  itself  with  its  tail,*  she  had  sprung  into  the  boat 
unaided. 

Fortunately  the  craft  was  a  large  one,  for  there 
were  many  to  save  and,  much  as  Lycon  hastened  the 
work  of  rescuing  the  slaves  and  their  children  from. the 
stable-roof,  by  the  time  all  had  embarked  night  had 
closed  in,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  find  the  way  out 
between  the  buildings. 

*  Squirrel. 


PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 


IX. 


It  was  a  strange  voyage,  which  none  of  the  occu- 
pants of  the  boat  ever  forgot.  The  Street  of  the  Bakers, 
the  largest  and  finest  street  in  the  city,  usually  so  full  of 
life,  this  evening,  for  the  first  time  Avithin  the  memory 
of  man,  neither  resounded  with  loud  conversations  from 
door  to  door,  nor  the  merry  songs  of  young  men  echo- 
ing from  the  wine-shops;  silence  reigned  in  harmony 
with  the  ruin  that  everywhere  met  the  eye.  The  rip- 
pling and  gurgling  of  the  water,  as  well  as  the  light 
strokes  of  the  oars  and  the  murmured  words  of  the 
boatmen  when  two  craft  met,  were  the  only  sounds 
that  interrupted  the  gloomy  stillness.  The  houses 
were  outlined  in  dark  masses  against  the  sky;  but 
whenever  an  opening  between  them  was  reached 
columns  of  smoke  and  blazing  flames  were  seen  in  the 
distance,  which  shed  a  murky  light  on  the  angles  of  the 
houses,  the  faces  in  the  boats,  and  the  smallest  ripple 
upon  the  surface  of  the  water.  Ever  and  anon  a 
shower  of  sparks  fell  hissing  into  the  waves,  and  some- 
times the  cool  evening  breeze  swept  a  veil  of  smoke 
over  the  street,  bringing  with  it  a  suffocating  smell  of 
fire. 

At  the  edge  of  the  flood  the  people  stood  in  little 
groups  talking  together.  From  them  it  was  learned 
that  some  of  the  houses  in  the  higher  part  of  the  city 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  28 1 

had  also  fallen.  There  had  been  fire  on  their  hearths, 
the  flames  had  caught  the  ruins,  and  it  was  these  build- 
ings which  were  now  burning. 

At  the  house  of  Polycles  the  wine-dealer,  where 
Lycon,  by  Myrtale's  request,  took  her  father,  an  un- 
usual bustle  prevailed.  Lanterns  were  hung  on  slen- 
der poles  in  front  of  the  house,  and  at  a  number  of 
small  tables  sat  part  of  the  citizens,  discussing  over  a 
goblet  of  wine  all  that  had  happened  on  this  eventful 
day. 

At  the  sight  of  Lycon,  who,  with  the  closely-veiled 
Myrtale,  was  supporting  Simonides,  an  eager  murmur 
arose ;  some  rose  to  get  a  better  view ;  others  pointed 
to  him  as  though  saying  :  "  That's  he !"  and  from  one 
table  to  another  the  question  ran  in  low  tones : 

"  Is  that  the  Athenian  ?" 

"  The  one  who  saved  the  sailors  by  unfastening  the 
"boats  ?" 

"  And  who  helped  the  citizens  in  the  flooded 
streets  ?" 

"  Who  knows  him  ?  —  Who  can  tell  whether  it's 
he?" 

The  temptation  was  too  strong  for  Conops;  he 
forgot  to  ask  whether  he  might  speak. 

"  I  can  tell  you  that !"  he  replied,  not  without  a 
touch  of  pride ;  "  he's  my  master's  guest,  and  Lve  been 
Avith  him  all  day,  first  at  market  and  then  in  the  boat 
—  he  and  no  other  is  Lycon  the  Athenian." 

A  universal  shout  of  ai)plause  rang  out ;  several 
women  of  light   repute,  who  were  passing,  flung  him 


2»2  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

kisses,  and  Polycles,  the  owner  of  the  house,  grasped 
his  hand,  saymg : 

"  If  you  are  the  Lycon  of  whom  everybody  is  talk- 
ing, you  are  a  man  of  honor  to  whom  the  city  owes 
more  than  a  new  robe." 

Then,  with  the  most  cordial  sympathy,  Polycles  wel- 
comed the  sick  Simonides  and  his  daughter,  and  learn- 
ing from  the  latter's  lips  that  they  had  spent  the  after- 
noon in  terror  lest  the  house  should  fall  and  bury  them 
in  the  water,  he  said  : 

"  I  won't  take  you  to  my  old  stone  mansion  — 
there  might  be  another  shock  of  earthquake  —  but  I 
have  in  my  garden  a  good  new  wooden  barn,  where 
you  can  rest  in  safety  and  be  supplied  by  my  old 
housekeeper  with  everything  necessary.  The  slaves 
shall  be  cared  for  as  well  as  possible."  And,  as  he 
took  Simonides'  arm  out  of  Lycon's  to  guide  him  and 
Myrtale  to  their  temporary  abode,  he  called  to  one  of 
the  boys  who  were  hurrying  about  waiting  on  the 
guests  and  ordered  him  to  bring  Lycon  wine,  barley 
bread,  cheese,  and  fruit. 

While  the  latter  was  hurriedly  eating  the  meal 
before  returning  to  Dorian's  boat,  Polycles  came  back 
from  the  garden  and  Lycon  hastened  to  say  : 

"  I  see  that  many  of  the  citizens  have  assembled 
here.  Could  not  some  of  the  younger  ones  relieve 
one  another  in  guarding  the  burned  houses,  that  no  one 
in  the  absence  of  the  master  and  the  darkness  of  the 
night,    may  get    in    and    take  what   still    remains.     A 


LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  285 

watch  will  be  kept  from  the  boats  upon  the  houses  in 
the  flooded  streets." 

Instead  of  answering,  Polycles  turned  to  the  people 
seated  at  the  tables  and  called  in  a  loud  voice : 

"  Citizens,  this  stranger  puts  us  to  shame.  He 
seems  to  think  more  and  take  wiser  care  of  our  city 
than  we  who  were  born  and  have  spent  our  lives  here. 
Do  you  know  what  he  proposes  ?" 

Polycles  had  scarcely  repeated  Lycon's  advice  ere 
twelve  or  fourteen  young  men  came  forward,  ready  for 
the  required  service.  Soon  after  they  were  divided 
into  three  parties,  the  first  of  which,  supplied  with  a 
sack  of  Chian  wine  and  accompanied  by  some  slaves, 
went  to  the  scene  of  the  fire. 

"  My  house  is  yours,"  said  Polycles  to  Lycon, 
"  come  here  when  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  saved. 
You  will  need  rest  and  sleep  if  the  night  is  quiet." 

Before  Lycon,  followed  by  Conops,  again  entered 
the  boat,  he  lighted  with  the  help  of  some  of  the 
citizens  a  large  pile  of  wood  on  the  edge  of  the  flood, 
so  that  the  vessels  might  be  provided  with  torches 
whenever  they  brought  anything  they  had  rescued 
ashore.  Then  an  agreement  was  made  between  the 
captains  of  the  boats  about  sharing  the  work.  Half  a 
score  of  the  craft  were  stationed  in  each  street,  five  on 
a  side.  The  rest  were  to  help  wherever  assistance  was 
most  needed  and,  as  ladders  had  been  found  necessary 
in  many  instances,  most  of  the  boats  were  provided 
with  them. 

When   everything   was  arranged   in   this   way,   the 


204  PICTURES     OF    HELLAS. 

work  of  rescue  progressed  more  rapidly  than  Lycon 
had  expected,  and  when  at  last  no  voice  called  for  aid, 
the  twenty  boats  had  saved  the  owners  of  more  than 
twenty  houses,  besides  a  large  number  of  slaves. 

Lycon,  attended  by  Conops,  now  hurried  back  to 
Polycles'  house.  The  wine-dealer  came  to  meet  him 
with  a  troubled  face  and  told  him  that  Simonides  was 
dangerously  ill.  The  cold  and  fright  he  had  endured 
had  been  too  severe  a  trial  for  him. 

As  Lycon  entered  the  wooden  barn  where  Simonides 
and  his  daughter  were  lodged,  his  first  glance  sought 
the  sick  man.  The  latter's  eyes  were  open,  but  stared 
fixedly  into  vacancy,  and  his  thin  hands  fumbled  to 
and  fro  over  the  coverlids  with  a  convulsive  twitching. 
Lycon  wished  to  approach,  but  Polycles  held  him  back. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  couch  sat  a  little  man 
of  grave  and  dignified  bearing,  dressed  in  a  white  robe. 
Lycon  instantly  saw  that  this  was  the  physician ;  for 
ever  and  anon  he  took  the  sick  man's  hand  to  judge  of 
his  condition  by  the  pulse,  and  on  a  little  table  close 
beside  him  lay  his  pouch  of  medicines  and  the  instru- 
ments used  in  his  i)rofession.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed 
stood  the  overseer,  Carion,  with  clasped  hands  and 
eyes  fixed  on  his  suffering  master. 

The  preparations  hastily  made  for  the  latter's  com- 
fort showed  that  the  household  was  a  Avealthy  one. 
Milesian  carpets  were  hung  in  a  semi-circle  around  the 
couch  to  shut  out  every  draught  of  air,  and  beneath  its 
ivory  feet  Babylonian  stuffs  had  been  spread  to  prevent 
any  chill  from  the  stone  floor. 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  285 

The  twitching  of  the  sick  man's  hands  gradually- 
ceased.  The  physician  rose  softly  and  went  to  Poly- 
cles. 

"  Simonides  is  better,"  he  said.  "  But  if  you  have 
anything  important  to  discuss  with  him,  do  not  delay. 
His  voice  will  soon  become  thick  and  unintelligible." 

"  Do  you  think  his  death  is  near  ?" 

"  If  it  is  the  will  of  the  gods,  he  may  live  a  day  or 
more;    but  he  will  never  rise  from  this  bed." 

Soon  after,  the  restless  movements  of  the  patient's 
hands  ceased  and  they  fell  feebly  on  the  coverhd. 
Raising  his  head  with  difficulty  he  looked  around  him. 

"  Where  is  Myrtale  .?"  was  his  first  question. 

"  She  is  preparing  a  decoction  the  doctor  ordered," 
replied  the  wine-dealer. 

"  And  Lycon  ?" 

"  Here,"  said  Polycles,  beckoning  to  Lycon  to  ap- 
proach the  bed. 

"  Is  it  true,"  asked  Simonides,  "  that  you  have 
saved  the  citizens  in  the  flooded  streets,  besides  numer- 
ous slaves  ?" 

"  Not  my  boat  only,  all  the  small  craft." 

"  It's  the  same  thing,"  said  Simonides  with  a  faint 
smile,  "  you  will  now  and  in  the  future  be  regarded  as 
one  of  the  benefactors  of  the  city,  a  sort  of  demi-god  — 
and  as  it  is  not  seemly  for  a  demi-god  to  be  a  bonds- 
man, I  shall  give  you  your  liberty.  Polycles,  who 
knows  everything  that  concerns  you,  has  added  the 
necessary  codicil  to  my  last  will,  which  he  and  the 
physician  have  signed  as  witnesses." 


286  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Lycon  knelt  beside  the  couch,  clasped  Sitnonides' 
hand,  and  covered  it  with  kisses.  "  I  thank  you,"  he 
faltered,  overwhelmed  by  emotion.  "  You  have  ful- 
filled my  dearest  wish.  I  have  obtained  my  freedom 
—  and  this  time  I  did  not  steal  it." 

Soon  after  the  curtain  at  the  door  was  pushed  aside 
and  Myrtale  entered,  followed  by  the  old  housekeeper. 
She  held  a  glass  cup  in  her  hands  and  seemed  to  have 
eyes  only  for  her  sick  father.  The  physician  poured  a 
few  drops  from  a  little  flask  into  the  smoking  potion, 
and  Simonides  drank  a  few  mouthfuls.  "  How  it  re- 
vives me !"  he  said,  while  Myrtale  was  straightening 
the  embroidered  pillows  under  his  head  and  shoulders. 
"  Are  those  lamps  which  shine  so  ?  It  seems  as  though 
I  saw  the  sun  in  the  midst  of  the  night." 

"  Do  you  feel  better,  old  friend  ?"  asked  Polycles. 

A  glimmer  of  his  former  mirthful  spirit  sparkled  in 
Simonides'  small  brown  eyes. 

"  That  fellow  yonder,"  he  whispered,  pointing  to 
the  physician,  *'has  given  me  too  many  drops,  He 
didn't  make  me  well,  but  drunk." 

Then,  with  an  unexpectedly  sudden  movement,  he 
seized  Myrtale's  ann.  His  mouth  and  chin  projected 
so  that  he  was  almost  unrecognizable,  and  a  corpse-like 
hue  overspread  his  face  as  swiftly  as  though  an  unseen 
hand  had  caused  it  by  gliding  lightly  over  it. 

"He  is  dying!  he  is  dying!"  cried  Myrtale  and, 
sobbing  passionately,  she  flung  herself  upon  her  father's 
breast. 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  287 


X. 


A  LARGE  clay  jar  filled  with  water,  placed  outside 
the  door  of  Polycles'  dwelling,  announced  the  next 
morning,  to  all  who  passed,  that  the  mansion  was  a 
house  of  mourning.  While  the  female  slaves  were  per- 
fuming and  dressing  the  dead  man,  Polycles  was  talk- 
ing with  Myrtale  about  Simonides'  last  will. 

Myrtale  had  no  brother,  but  was  a  so-called  inherit- 
ing daughter.*  As  there  was  no  kinsman  whom  she 
could  wed  and  endow  with  her  fortune,  Simonides  had 
bequeathed  his  whole  property,  amounting  to  twenty 
talents,  to  his  friend  Polycles  on  condition  that  he 
should  marry  Myrtale.  If  Polycles  was  not  willing  to 
do  this,  he  was  to  inherit  only  two  talents  and  then  use 
his  best  judgment  in  choosing  a  husband  for  the  young 
girl  who,  in  such  a  case,  was  to  keep  all  the  rest  of  the 
fortune  as  a  dowry. 

Much  as  Myrtale  was  absorbed  in  her  grief,  she 
felt  the  importance  of  the  arrangements  which  would 
decide  her  fate.  So  it  was  a  great  relief  to  her  when 
Polycles- said  that  he  was  too  old  to  take  a  young  wife 
and,  moreover,  had  been  warned  in  a  dream  against 
marrying  again.  One  night  in  his  sleep  he  had  seen 
his  house  decked  with  garlands  as  though  for  a  bridal ; 
but  when  he  was  leading  the  bride  home  the  green 
wreath  vanished  and,  in  its  place  above  the  door,  hung 

*In  Athens,  daughters  inherited  only  in  default  of  male  lieirs. 


265  nCTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

an  oil-jar,  twined  with  a  blue  ribbon,  as  though  for  an 
offering  at  a  tomb.  The  interpreter  of  dreams  being 
consulted  had  said  that  if  Polycles  married  he  would 
die  on  his  wedding  day. 

Polycles  then  asked  the  young  girl  to  consider  him 
a  second  father,  and  added  that  he  would  not  act 
against  her  wishes  in  the  choice  of  a  bridegroom. 

During  the  day  another  shock  of  earthquake  was 
felt,  and  though  it  did  no  damage  except  to  open 
cracks  in  the  ancient  walls  of  the  city,  universal  terror 
was  aroused.  Some  fled  to  the  market-place,  and 
others,  fearing  another  flood,  to  the  nearest  heights. 
This  dread,  however,  proved  groundless.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  water  in  the  inundated  streets  began  to  fall 
so  rapidly  that  the  boats  were  obliged  to  follow  it  in 
haste,  and  by  noon  they  were  again  lying  at  their  usual 
place,  moored  to  the  lime-stone  quay,. though  this  quay 
no  longer  rose  so  far  above  the  surface  of  the  tide  and 
the  whole  of  the  old  shore,  with  its  pebbles,  sea-weed, 
and  mussel-shells,  remained  under  the  waves. 

Simonides'  funeral  was  conducted  as  beseemed  a 
wealthy  family.  The  corpse,  crowned  with  myrtle  and 
resting  on  embroidered  pillows,  was  displayed  upon  a 
couch,  where  it  was  seen  during  the  day  by  a  throng  of 
citizens,  old  and  young,  rich  and  poor,  some  of  the 
latter  clad  in  grey  or  black  clothes  with  closely  cut 
hair,  asserting  by  this  mourning  garb  a  distant  relation- 
ship. 

On  the  day  of  the  funeral  obsequies  hundreds  of 
persons  assembled  outside  the  house  and,  before  the  sun 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  289 

rose,  the  funeral  procession  started  amid  the  mournful 
notes  of  Carian  flutes,  alternating  with  a  chorus  of 
men's  voices.  This  choir  was  followed  by  the  dead 
man's  friends  and  acquaintances,  numbering  more  than 
half  the  citizens  of  the  place.  Then  came  the  bier,  an 
ivory  bed,  borne  by  friends  and  freedmen,  among  them 
Lycon,  to  whom  many  hands  pointed  and  many  lips 
mentioned  as  the  "preserver  of  the  city,  the  quick- 
witted Athenian."  On  the  ivory  couch  lay  the  dead 
man,  robed  in  white  and  covered  with  so  many  wreaths 
and  blue  and  red  sacrifice  ribbons,  that  the  magnificent 
purple  carpet  in  which  he  was  wrapped  could  scarcely 
be  seen.  By  the  side  of  the  bier  walked  slaves  bearing 
oil  jars,  boxes  of  ointment,  and  other  articles  belonging 
to  the  funeral  rites.  Then  came  a  few  elderly  kins- 
women, for  Myrtale  was  too  young  to  follow  the  corpse. 
The  train  was  closed  by  a  few  sacrifice  attendants  in 
short  parti-colored  mantles  and  light  half  boots,  who 
bore  on  their  heads  small  offering-tables  covered  with 
offerings  of  the  same  kind  as  those  the  slaves  carried 
beside  the  bier. 

At  the  farthest  end  of  Polycles'  garden  the  funeral 
train  stopped  on  a  height  which  afforded  a  view  of  the 
city,  harbor,  bay,  and  country  beyond.  This  had  al- 
ways been  Simonides'  favorite  spot,  and  he  had  often 
expressed  a  desire  to  be  laid  to  rest  here. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  was  seen  the  huge  funeral 
pyre,  a  heap  of  logs  filled  with  combustible  materials. 
After  it  had  been  adorned  with  the  jars,  vases,  and 
dishes   brought,  and   the  bier   lifted   upon    it,  it  was 

19 


290  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

lighted  by  torches.  Amid  the  sobs  and  wails  of  the 
spectators,  the  flames  flared  high  into  the  air  and  in  an 
instant  the  smoke  and  red  blaze  enveloped  the  bier, 
concealing  it  from  every  eye.  Many  an  oil  jar,  many 
a  box  of  ointment  was  now  flung  upon  the  fire  as  a  last 
token  of  affection  and,  when  it  was  once  more  possible 
to  see  the  pyre,  the  bier  had  crumbled  into  a  dark, 
shapeless  mass,  from  which  rose  a  column  of  black 
smoke. 

The  majority  of  the  procession  returned  to  Polycles' 
house  and  there,  as  the  dead  man's  guests,  partook  of 
a  festal  banquet.  Some  few,  among  them  Lycon,  re- 
mained until  the  ashes  were  collected  and  the  bones 
committed  to  the  bosom  of  the  earth. 

Three  days  after,  the  first,  and  nine  days  after  the 
second  offering  to  the  dead  was  brought  to  the  grave. 
About  a  week  later  a  marble  column  was  erected  upon 
it,  crowned  with  a  capital  made  of  colored  acanthus 
leaves.  The  thirtieth  day  after  the  funeral  obsequies 
Myrtale  twined  the  memorial  column  with  blue  and 
red  sacrifice  ribbons  from  which  hung  small  oil  jars, 
after  which  she  poured  milk,  honey,  spring-water,  and 
mixed  wine  on  the  ground  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  rich 
man's  shade,  tsrking  careful  heed  to  throw  each  one  of 
the  vessels  she  had  used  over  her  shoulder,  so  that  they 
were  shattered,  for  none  of  the  articles  which  had 
served  at  a  funeral  ceremonial  could  be  used  by  the 
living. 

With  this  ofiering  the  time  of  mourning  ended. 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  29 1 


XL 


A  FEW  days  later  Polycles  and  Myrtale  visited  Si- 
•monides'  country-house  to  look  after  a  vineyard  whose 
fruit,  in  Polycles'  opinion,  was  the  best  in  Thessaly. 
When  they  returned  home,  accompanied  by  a  male  and 
female  slave,  evening  was  approaching.  The  sun  was 
sinking  behind  some  hills,  and  the  atmosphere  glowed 
with  orange  and  crimson  hues.  The  road  they  were 
following  was  only  marked  by  a  few  deep  wheel  tracks 
in  the  grass ;  on  the  right  was  a  clump  of  gnarled  olive 
trees,  whose  foliage  as  usual  reflected  the  color  of  the 
sky,  so  that  now  in  the  sunset  radiance  they  seemed 
covered  with  a  golden  veil ;  on  the  left  a  brook  flowed 
between  hedges  of  flowering  laurel.  A  light  mist  was 
rising  from  the  meadows,  and  the  whole  air  was  filled 
with  the  spicy  odor  of  blossoms.  Ever  and  anon  a 
faint  twitter  echoed  from  the  bushes ;  sometimes  a  bee, 
apparently  bewildered  and  drowsy,  »buzzed  upward 
from  the  grass  at  their  feet,  and  through  the  profound 
stillness  of  the  country  a  dog's  bark  was  heard  in  the 
distance. 

There  was  something  in  the  peacefulness  of  the 
evening  which  invited  familiar  conversation.  Polycles 
took  Myrtale's  hand. 

"  Dear  child,"  he  said.  "  It  is  time  to  think  of 
your  affairs." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Polycles  ?" 


292  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

"  I  am  wondering  whether  among  the  youths  of  the 
city,  whom  you  must  have  seen  on  festival  days,  there 
is  not  one  you  would  like  for  a  husband." 

Myrtale  blushed  faintly,  but  shook  her  head. 

"  There  is  Theagenes,  the  son  of  Straton,  the  dyer. 
True,  he  is  rather  stout  for  a  young  man,  but  he  is 
clever,  talks  well,  and  has  a  fortune  at  least  as  large  as 
your  own." 

Myrtale  made  no  reply;  but  struck,  with  the  tassel 
on  the  corner  of  her  upper  robe,  the  head  of  a  dande- 
lion growing  by  the  roadside,  so  that  its  white  down 
flew  in  every  direction. 

Polycles  understood  that  the  proposed  suitor  was 
excluded  from  the  list. 

"  There  is  Eumolpus,  son  of  Socles  the  rope- 
maker  I"  he  continued.  "  He  is  slender,  well-formed, 
and  handsome.  True,  he  is  on  intimate  terms  with  a 
hetaira,  but  after  marriage.  .  .  ." 

Myrtale  made  no  answer  in  words ;  but  the  tassel 
was  put  in  motion  with  the  same  result  as  before. 

"  There  is  also,"  added  Polycles,  "  young  Nicias, 
your  neighbor's  son.  I  don't  deny  that  since  his  visit 
to  Athens  he  has  become  a  dandy ;  but.  .  .  ." 

This  was  too  much  for  Myrtale ;  she  forgot  the 
reserve  required  of  a  young  girl  and  wrathfuUy  ex- 
claimed : 

"  The  coxcomb !" 

"  But  is  there  no  one  ?" 

Myrtale  silently  lowered  her  eyes  :  then,  to  change 
the  conversation,  said: 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  293 

"  How  is  the  house  in  the  Street  of  the  Bakers  ? 
Has  it  been  much  damaged  by  the  flood  and  the 
earthquake  ?" 

"  Only  one  of  the  pillars  in  the  peristyle  was  twisted 
awry ;  but  the  damage  has  been  repaired  and,  so  far 
as  your  home  is  concerned,  you  can  have  the  wedding 
there  any  day." 

As  they  approached  the  city  Myrtale  became  more 
and  more  thoughtful.  Suddenly  she  sighed,  drew  her 
hand  from  her  companion's  clasp,  and  remarked  : 

"  It's  a  pity  that  Lycon  is  a  slave !"  Then,  as  if 
fearing  she  had  said  too  much,  she  hastened  to  add: 
•"  Don't  you  think  so,  too  ?" 

Polycles  looked  keenly  at  her  and,  in  spite  of  the 
dusk  of  evening,  he  noticed  that  her  cheeks  were 
flushed. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  child,"  he  replied.  "  Lycon  is 
no  slave.  Your  father  freed  him  on  the  day  of  his 
death." 

"  And  I  knew  nothing  about  it  ?" 

"You  were  standing  at  the  hearth,  preparing  the 
decoction  the  physician  had  ordered." 

"  My  dear  father !"  exclaimed  Myrtale,  deeply 
moved,  kissing  her  fingers  as  if  she  had  seen  the  dead 
man  alive  before  her. 

"  But  that  doesn't  settle  everything,"  said  Polycles 
gravely.  "  In  Athens  Lycon  is  a  spurious  citizen  and 
subject  to  the  penalty  of  the  law.  He  would  be  made 
a.  slave  there." 

Myrtale  started. 


294  PICTURES     OF    HELLAS. 

"  Do  what  you  can  for  him,"  she  said  hurriedly, 
clasping  Polycles'  hand  in  both  her  own. 

"That  is  no  easy  matter,"  rephed  Polycles,  who 
found  a  secret  satisfaction  in  being  entreated  to  do 
what  he  himself  intended.  "  It's  no  easy  matter,  I  tell 
you." 

"  You  cafi  free  him,  if  you  wish.  Remember  what 
he  has  done  for  the  city.  Besides,  did  he  not  save  my 
father's  life  and  mine  ?" 

"  I'll  think  of  it,"  said  Polycles. 

"No,  no,  you  must  promise  me!"  exclaimed  Myr- 
tale.  "  Save  him  from  the  punishment  of  the  law,  and 
I  will  be  a  daughter  to  you  !  And  raising  herself  on 
tiptoe,  she  flung  her  arms  around  Polycles'  neck  and 
kissed  him  on  the  cheek. 

Polycles  felt  the  soft  pressure  of  Myrtale's  youthful 
figure  and,  when  he  had  taken  leave  of  her  at  the  door 
of  the  women's  apartment  in  his  house,  he  stood  still,, 
absorbed  in  thought. 

"  By  Aphrodite  !"  he  cried,  "  the  girl  is  bewitching, 
and  I  am  not  so  old.  .  .  ." 

But  at  the  same  instant  he  beheld,  as  he  had  done 
in  his  dream,  the  oil-jar  suspended  by  a  blue  ribbon 
over  the  door  of  his  house.  He  pressed  his  hands 
upon  his  eyes  and,  when  he  entered  his  lonely  sleeping- 
room,  he  said,  sighing : 

"  Polycles,  you  are  a  greater  simpleton  than  I  had 
supposed." 


LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  295 


XII. 


The  next  morning  the  public  criers  summoned  the 
citizens  to  a  popular  assembly,  and  soon  after  the 
streets  were  filled  with  young  and  old,  rich  and  poor, 
who,  amid  hubbub,  shrieks,  and  laughter,  flocked 
towards  the  theatre,  the  place  where  popular  assemblies 
were  usually  held  in  the  smaller  cities. 

Thessaly,  renowned  for  its  beautiful  river  valley,  its 
fine  horses,  and  its  powerful  sorceresses,  was  at  that 
time  under  the  sole  rule  of  Alexander  of  Pherae  —  a 
man  who  treated  his  subjects  so  harshly  that  he  or- 
dered some  to  be  buried  alive  and  had  others  dressed 
in  bear-skins  and  torn  to  pieces  by  dogs.  Like  all 
tyrants,  he  lived  in  perpetual  fear.  He  had  so  little  faith 
in  his  own  body  guard  that  he  had  himself  watched  by 
a  dog;  he  spent  the  night  in  the  upper  loft  of  his 
stately  palace,  that  he  might  be  able  to  draw  the  ladder 
up  after  him.  The  family  to  which  he  belonged  had 
raised  themselves  from  Tagoi,  chiefs  elected  by  the 
people,  to  sovereigns,  and  he  himself,  like  his  predeces- 
sor, "had  paved  his  way  to  power  by  murder. 

But  heavily  as  Alexander's  yoke  rested  upon  the 
city  of  Pherae,  it  was  comparatively  little  felt  in  Me- 
thone,  though  the  latter  was  scarcely  a  day's  journey 
away.  When  the  little  city  had  sent  its  quota  of  men 
to  the  army  and  paid  its  taxes,  the  citizens  had  full 
liberty  to  attend  to  their  own  affairs,  while  the  descen- 


296  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

dants  of  the  original  inhabitants  of  the  country,  as 
slaves,  penestae,  performed  all  the  field  work  and 
drudgery.  Whoever  did  not  know  better  might  have 
easily  believed  that  Methone  was  a  free  state. 

On  the  way  to  the  place  of  assembly,  Polycles  fol- 
lowed the  least  frequented  streets.  Suddenly  he  signed 
to  the  slaves  who  accompanied  him  to  keep  back  and, 
throwing  his  arm  over  Lycon's  shoulder,  he  said  to 
him : 

"  My  friend,  I  have  important  matters  to  discuss 
with  you  to-day !  You  know  that  Simonides,  in  his 
last  will,  left  me  his  fortune  and  his  daughter.  But,  as 
I  am  too  old  to  marry  a  young  wife,  I  want  to  ask  if 
you  are  willing  to  take  the  girl  with  a  dowry  of  eighteen 
talents  ?" 

Lycon  stopped,  but  did  not  utter  a  word  in  reply. 
If  the  rude  statue  of  Poseidon  in  front  of  the  temple  of 
the  god  had  suddenly  descended  from  its  pedestal  and 
come  towards  him,  he  could  not  have  been  more 
speechless  with  bewilderment. 

"  That  this  may  be  done,"  Polycles  continued  smil- 
ing, "I  will  adopt  you  as  a  son  and  make  you  my 
heir.  True,  I  should  have  preferred  a  suitor  who  was 
the  girl's  equal  in  birth,  but  as  she  seems  to  inchne  to 
you,  I  will  submit  to  her  wish." 

Lycon  drew  a  long  breath,  and  passed  his  huge 
hand  over  his  face  several  times. 

"  I  thank  you,  Polycles,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  thank 
you  from  my  heart !  But  how  is  this  to  be  ?  I  am  a 
freedman,  it  is  true;  but  you  forget.  .  .  ." 


LVCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  297 

"  I  forget  nothing,"  answered  Polycles.  "  But  one 
thing  you  must  know  —  the  citizens  must  hear  the 
whole  story.  .  .  .  your  condition  of  slave,  your  sin,  and 
the  punishment  whose  mark  you  bear.  In  a  little 
place  like  Methone  nothing  can  be  hidden,  so  it  is 
better  to  confess  everything  yourself  rather  than  have  it 
discovered  by  others.  Besides,  matters  relating  to  in- 
heritance, marriage,  and  other  kindred  affairs  are  often 
discussed  in  our  popular  assembhes.  Here,  where  all 
the  citizens  know  each  other,  no  distinction  is  made 
between  public  and  private  business." 

In  front  of  the  theatre  the  city  police  were  busily 
engaged  in  urging  on  the  groups  of  gossiping,  laughing 
citizens  by  threatening  to  mark  them  with  ropes  cov- 
ered with  red  paint.  These  ropes  left  ugly  stains  on 
mantles,  and  the  people  therefore  tried  to  avoid  them. 

But  the  largest  crowd  outside  of  the  theatre  was 
not  disturbed  by  the  police.  It  consisted  of  slaves 
waiting  for  the  close  of  the  assembly  to  attend  their 
masters  to  the  market,  baths,  or  gymnasium.  These 
slaves  were  no  less  merry  than  the  citizens.  Their  at- 
tention was  specially  directed  to  the  flat  roofs  of  the 
nearest  houses,  where  a  group  of  young  slave-girls 
were  busily  sunning  rugs  and  cushions,  to  get  an  oppor- 
tunity to  see  the  throngs  of  men  and  be  seen  by  them. 
Signs,  not  always  the  most  seemly,  were  sometimes  ex- 
changed between  the  square  before  the  theatre  and  the 
roofs. 

At  the  entrance  the  recording  clerk  objected  to  ad- 
jnitting  Lycon ;  but  Polycles  patted  him  on  the  shoul- 


298  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

der,  saying :  "  If  this  man  isn't  a  citizen  of  Methone, 
he  will  soon  become  one.     Let  him  go  in." 

The  interior  of  the  theatre  presented  a  deep,  semi- 
circular recess,  surrounded  by  a  mound  of  earth  slant- 
ing upward,  covered  with  stone  benches,  and  supported 
by  a  thick  encircling  wall.  About  the  center  of  the 
place,  between  the  seats  rising  around,  stood  the  altar, 
where,  at  the  moment  Polycles  and  Lycon  entered,  a 
priest  in  a  long  white  robe,  with  a  garland  on  his  hair, 
was  in  the  act  of  offering  the  customary  sacrifice  of 
purification.  When  this  short  ceremony  was  over  the 
chief  magistrate  took  his  seat  and  a  struggle,  half  jest, 
half  earnest,  followed,  for  all  wanted  places  in  the  front 
row  where  they  could  hear  best. 

The  chief  magistrate  opened  the  meeting  by  relat- 
ing the  misfortunes  which  had  recently  overwhelmed 
the  place.  When  he  spoke  of  the  efficient  service  ren- 
dered by  the  boats  during  the  flood,  a  smith  rose  in 
the  crowd  and  in  a  deep  voice  shouted : 

"  Let  us  not  forget  the  brave  Athenian,  Lycon. 
But  for  him  many  of  us  would  have  perished.  It  is  he 
who  saved  us  by  first  unmooring  the  boats." 

"  Yes,  yes,  the  smith  is  right !"  responded  many 
voices,  with  an  earnestness  which  showed  that  the 
speakers  themselves  had  been  among  the  number  of 
those  rescued. 

The  dead  and  missing  had  not  even  one  word  of 
remembrance.  Human  life  was  of  little  value  in  those 
days.  On  the  other  hand,  the  magistrate  did  not 
forget  to  mention  that  the  lands  of  the  city  had  suf- 


LYCON    WITH    THK     BIG    HAND.  299 

fered  very  little  damage,  almost  all  of  them  having 
been  too  high  to  be  reached  by  the  flood.  The  shocks 
of  earthquake  had  caused  warm  springs,  which  possi- 
bly possessed  healing  powers,  to  bubble  up  in  many 
places,  and  in  that  case  they  might  become  a  source  of 
great  wealth  to  the  city  and  perhaps  render  it  as  much 
frequented  as  Aedepsus  in  Euboea. 

As  exaggerated  rumors  of  the  injury  sustained  by 
the  city  had  been  in  circulation,  this  report  was  re- 
ceived with  joy,  and  the  assembly  was  in  the  best 
humor  when  a  tall,  thin  man,  with  hollow  cheeks  and 
a  long  beard,  stepped  forward  saying : 

"  I  am  a  friend  of  the  simple,  frugal  customs  of  our 
ancestors." 

"  That's  why  you  go  ragged  and  shoeless,"  shouted 
a  youthful  voice  from  one  of  the  nearest  passages  be- 
tween the  seats. 

The  speaker  was  a  little  disconcerted,  but  recovered 
his  composure. 

"  I  do  not  favor  the  new  custom  of  bestowing  on 
any  one  who  does  the  place  a  trifling  service  the  high- 
sounding  title  of  benefactor  of  the  city,  and  overwhelm- 
ing him  with  rewards  and  marks  of  distinction.  If  we 
keep  on  so  there  will  soon  be  as  many  benefactors  as 
citizens;  one  after  another  is  not  only  released  from 
paying  taxes,  but  granted  money  to  boot,  while  the 
really  useful  citizens,  the  instructors  of  youth  and  the 
people.  .  .  ." 

"  Who  is  that  speaking  ?"  asked    a    white-bearded 


300  PICTURES    OF    HKM.AS. 

old  man  on  the  front  row  of  seats,  holding  his  hand  to 
his  ear  to  catch  the  answer : 

"  That  is  the  orator,  Philopator,"  replied  the  person 
addressed,  with  a  scornful  emphasis  on  the  word  "  ora- 
tor." 

"  He's  also  called  the  man  with  the  mustard  face," 
added  another. 

As  these  explanations  were  given  to  a  deaf  man, 
Philopator  could  not  avoid  hearing  them.  Perceiving 
that  the  current  of  feeling  was  against  him,  he  con- 
tinued more  rapidly  with  visible  irresolution. 

"  The  gods  forbid  that  I  should  envy  anybody. 
No  one  can  feel  a  deeper  reverence  for  actual  services, 
deeds  truly  great,  exploits  really  noble.  But,  my 
friends,  is  there  anything  great  in  saving  a  few  people 
in  a  boat  ?  That  requires  neither  the  sage's  sagacity, 
the  warrior's  courage,  nor  the  sacrifice  of  self  It  is  a 
thing  any  one  can  do,  the  ignorant  as  well  as  the  ex- 
pert." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  have  done  it,  Philopator," 
shouted  the  smith's  deep  voice,  and  as  there  was  some- 
thing in  Philopator's  appearance  that  showed  he  had 
never  handled  an  oar,  the  interruption  caused  immod- 
erate laughter. 

Philopator  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  brow. 

"  I  have  never  boasted  of  seamanship,"  he  replied. 

The  words  were  received  with  a  fresh  outbreak  of 
mirth. 

"  You  have  talked  enough  !"  cried  a  voice. 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  3OI 

« 

"  We  know  what  you  want  to  say !"  shouted  a 
second. 

"  Back  to  your  seat !"  added  a  third. 

Then,  as  the  luckless  orator  still  remained  standing, 
a  terrible  tumult  arose  and  at  the  same  time  deafening 
shouts  burst  like  a  gust  of  wind  or  a  sudden  tempest 
over  the  assembly. 

The  wretched  Philopator,  at  whom  hundreds  of 
throats  were  yelling,  became  fairly  frantic.  He  turned 
deadly  pale,  tore  his  hair,  and  ran  to  and  fro  in  the 
level  space  as  though  out  of  his  senses.  As  his  voice 
would  have  been  lost  amid  the  shouts,  he  threw  him- 
self humbly  on  his  knees  and  extended  his  arms 
towards  the  benches  from  -which  echoed  the  most  furi- 
ous cries.  At  last  the  storm  subsided  and  the  smith's 
deep  voice  said : 

"  Go  back  to  your  seat,  Philopator,  that's  the  best 
thing  to  do." 

The  orator  followed  the  good  advice  and,  trembling 
from  head  to  foot,  slunk  back  to  his  place,  where  he 
cowered  making  himself  as  small  as  possible., 

Polycles  signed  to  Lycon  to  seat  himself  behind  the 
bema,  where  he  was  concealed  from  every  one;  then 
he  himself  stepped  forward,  apparently  as  calm  as  when 
moving  among  the  guests  in  front  of  his  house. 

"  Fellow  citizens,"  he  said,  "  I  am  no  professional 
orator  like  Philopator  yonder,  but  perhaps  you  will 
listen  to  me,  since  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  of  a  man 
who  came  to  us  in  an  evil  time  and  who,  within  a  few 
days,  has  become  dear  to  the  whole  city." 


302  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

"  Speak,  speak !"  shouted  numerous  voices. 

"  Much  evil  and  much  good  can  be  told  of  him.  I 
will  begin  with  the  evil.  .  .  .  You  think  Lycon  is  an 
Athenian  —  he  is  not.  You  think  Lycon  is  a  citizen  — 
he  is  not  that  either.  He  is  a  freedman,  who  a  little 
more  than  a  month  ago  was  a  slave," 

This  statement  was  followed  by  silence  so  pro- 
found that  no  one  would  have  believed  himself  to  be 
in  the  same  place  and  among  the  same  men  who  a 
short  time  before  were  yelling  at  Philopator.  Amid 
the  breathless  expectation  of  the  throng,  external  sur- 
roundings suddenly  seemed  like  a  revelation  from  an- 
other world.  The  wind  was  heard  sighing  through  the 
tree-tops  and  the  swallows  twittering  in  the  air.  Many 
on  the  back  seats  rose  and  held  their  hands  behind 
their  ears,  that  they  might  not  lose  a  single  word. 

Polycles  did  not  spare  Lycon,  but  told  the  people 
that  his  dead  friend  Simonides  a  few  years  before  had 
bought  a  young  slave  named  Zenon,  who,  after  being 
branded  for  theft,  had  fled  to  Poseidon's  altar.  For  a 
long  time  Zenon  had  served  his  new  master  well ;  but 
when  he  saw  a  man  from  Hypata  pay  Simonides  a 
large  sum  of  money,  he  ran  away  with  it  during  the 
night. 

A  movement  passed  through  the  assembly,  one 
man  muttered  to  another.  Polycles  foresaw  a  fresh 
storm. 

*'  Friends  and  fellow  citizens,"  he  said  in  a  jesting 
tone ;  "  we  know  each  other,  so  I  shall  not  ask  you  to 
keep  quiet.     On  the  contrary,  I  will  beg  you  to  chatter 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BICx    HAND.  303 

and  yell  to  your  hearts'  content,  in  order  to  have  it 
over  the  sooner." 

Some  of  the  men  laughed ;  but  most  were  already 
too  angry  to  allow  themselves  to  be  softened  by  a  jest. 

"  A  branded  slave  !"  cried  some. 

"  And  we  have  been  permitted  to  do  him  honor !" 

"  Why  did  no  one  tell  us  ?" 

"  Let  us  drive  this  Zenon  out  of  the  city  !" 

"  We'll  stone  him  !" 

*'  Truly  a  fine  benefactor  to  add  to  the  rest  of  the 
city's  benefactors !"  shouted  Philopator.  But  those 
who  sat  nearest  seized  his  robe  and  forced  him  back 
into  his  seat.  As  he  made  wild  gestures  with  his  arms 
and  assumed  the  air  of  a  deeply  injured  man,  the  smith 
turned  towards  him. 

"  Philopator!" 

He  merely  uttered  the  man's  name,  but  in  precisely 
the  same  tone  as  if  he  had  been  a  dog.  Philopator 
made  no  reply,  but  shrunk  into  as  small  a  space  in  his 
comer  as  possible. 

At  the  sight  of  this  submission,  which  could  only  be 
explained  by  a  thorough  respect  for  the  smith's  brawny 
fists,  a  noisy  expression  of  mirth  ran  through  the  as- 
sembly. 

Polycles  continued : 

"  I  will  now  speak  of  Lycon's  good  qualities,"  and 
he  related  how  the  latter  had  been  respected  as  a 
citizen  and  popular  with  all  in  Athens.  "  We  Me- 
thonians,"  he  added,  "  have  cause  to  be  proud  that  an 
insignificant  slave  from  this  city  was  found  worthy  to 


304  PICTURES     OF    HELLAS. 

associate  with  the  leading  men  in  Athens,  so  that  he 
was  daily  seen  arm  in  arm  with  the  rich  Timotheus, 
son  of  Conon." 

Polycles  knew  his  fellow  citizens,  the  Methonians. 
If  anything  could  flatter  their  pride,  it  would  be  to 
have  one  of  their  own  number,  and  a  poor  slave  into 
the  bargain,  win  favor  and  affection  in  Athens. 

''  Even  if  the  man  did  once  take  what  belonged  to 
others,"  observed  a  friendly  philosopher,  "  there  may 
be  some  good  in  him." 

"  Yes,  Lycon  is  really  a  good  man,"  replied  Poly- 
cles, and  now  related  how  the  latter,  who  was  living  so 
prosperously  in  Athens,  had  no  sooner  heard  of  Simon- 
ides'  illness  and  the  slaves'  neglect  than  he  sold  every- 
thing he  possessed  and  came  to  Methone  to  restore 
order  in  the  household  and  obtain  his  master's  forgive- 
ness. 

"  That  was  a  noble  act !  Yes,  by  Zeus,  a  noble 
act!"  shouted  many  voices. 

Polycles  then  spoke  of  the  flood  and,  by  a  clever 
inspiration,  described  how  Philopator,  who  thought  it 
was  so  easy  to  save  a  few  people  in  a  boat,  would  have 
behaved.  At  sight  of  the  gigantic  billow  that  rolled 
in,  threatening  to  sweep  everything  away,  he  would 
surely  have  been  no  less  disconcerted  than  at  the  storm 
which  had  recently  burst  upon  him  in  the  assembly. 
He  would  have  fled  at  full  speed  up  the  street,  but 
would  have  been  overtaken  by  the  water  and  met  his 
death  with  the  men  in  the  boats.  But  how  had  Lycon 
behaved  ?     Instead  of  flying  before  the  flood,  he  had. 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  305 

jumped  into  the  nearest  boat  and,  instead  of  thinking 
solely  of  himself,  in  the  midst  of  the  peril  had  remem- 
bered others  and  warned  the  men  in  the  rest  of  the 
boats.  "  Had  it  not  been  for  Lycon,"  said  Polycles, 
raising  his  voice,  "  not  only  would  thirty  men  in  the 
boats  have  perished,  but  a  number  of  free  citizens,  as 
well  as  slaves,  would  have  lost  their  lives  in  the  flooded 
streets.  For,  on  that  day  of  misfortune,  Lycon,  with 
perhaps  a  score  of  boats,  saved  from  about  twenty 
flooded  houses  eighty  citizens,  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren, besides  more  than  two  hundred  and  seventy 
slaves.  So  great  is  the  number  of  those  who  owe  their 
lives  to  Lycon." 

A  deafening  tumult  of  joy  arose,  a  storm  of  ap- 
plause, and  it  was  long  ere  Polycles  could  again  be 
heard. 

"  I  think,  therefore,"  he  added,  "  that  Lycon  has 
some  claim  —  even  if  Philopator  does  not  consider  it — 
to  deserve  the  name  of  benefactor  of  the  city." 

Just  at  that  moment  a  voice  from  one  of  the  back 
seats  shouted  :  "  Where  is  Lycon  ?  We  want  to  see 
him." 

The  cry  was  instantly  taken  up  by  all,  and  the 
whole  theatre  echoed  with  the  call  :  "  Where  is 
Lycon  ?" 

'•  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Polycles,  smiling,  "  that  the 
very  men  who  a  short  time  ago  wanted  to  drive  Lycon 
out  of  the  city  and  stone  him,  are  now  shouting  the 
loudest." 

These    words    roused    much    noisy    hilarity.      The 


3o6  PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 

worthy  Methonians  could  not  help  laughing  themselves 
at  the  ease  with  which  they  passed  from  one  extreme 
to  the  other. 

"  As  I  knew  you  would  want  to  see  Lycon,"  Poly- 
cles  added,  "  I  have,  with  the  chief  magistrate's  permis- 
sion, brought  him  with  me."  He  beckoned  to  Lycon 
and  the  latter,  pale  with  emotion  but  apparently  calm, 
now  came  forward  before  the  rampart  of  human  faces 
formed  by  the  seats  towering  before  him. 

At  the  sight  of  Lycon's  frank,  good-natured  face 
and  powerful  form,  a  new  and  long  continued  storm  of 
applause  arose. 

"  Dear  friends  and  fellow  citizens,"  Polycles  began 
again,  "  I  will  propose  to  you  to  reward  this  man  in  a 
way  that  will  bring  no  great  expense  upon  the  city 
and  yet,  perhaps,  best  suit  his  own  wishes.  Simonides, 
as  you  know,  bequeathed  me  his  fortune  with  his 
daughter.  But,  as  I  am  too  old  to  take  a  young  wife 
and  the  girl  has  a  fancy  for  Lycon,  I  thought  of  giving 
her  to  him  in  marriage,  by  which  he  will  come  into 
possession  of  the  greater  part  of  her  property.  But,  to 
do  this,  you  must  make  him  a  citizen;  then  I  will 
adopt  him  as  a  son  and  name  him  my  heir,  that  he 
may  become  a  proper  suitor.  But  to  prevent  any 
one  in  future  from  taunting  Lycon  with  having  been  a 
branded  slave,  I  propose  to  you  that  as  a  pubhc  re- 
ward, you  bestow  upon  him  exemption  from  taxes  and 
a  free  maintenance  in  the  Prytaneium. 

"  Lastly,  let  there  be  hung  in  the  temple  of  Posei- 
don a  tablet  bearing  a  representation  of  Lycon's  deed 


LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  30/ 

at  the  time  of  the  flood  and  a  short  account  of  his  hfe, 
in  which  it  should  be  stated  that  he  had  been  a 
branded  slave.  Coming  generations  could  then  read 
there  that  the  city  of  Methone  did  her  duty  even  to 
the  most  insignificant  person.  This,  dear  fellow-citi- 
zens, is  my  proposal  concerning  Lycon.  If  any  one 
has  a  better  plan  to  suggest,  I  will  gladly  recall  it." 

The  rope-maker.  Socles,  rose.  He  was  a  small, 
stout  man,  with  big,  prominent  eyes  and  a  wide  half 
open  mouth,  which  gave  him  an  extremely  foolish  air. 

"  I  can  vote  for  no  reward  to  this  Lycon,"  he  said. 

"  Why  not  ?" 

"  Because,  by  Zeus,  he  seems  to  me  one  of  the  most 
foohsh  of  men !  .  .  .  .  If  he  was  living  so  merrily  and 
contentedly  at  Athens  as  is  said,  why  doesn't  he  stay 
there  ?     What  does  he  want  here  of  us  ?" 

Lycon  laughed  and  asked  : 

"  Of  what  city  is  this  man  a  native  ?" 

"  Of  Chaeroneia." 

"  Aha !"  exclaimed  Lycon  laughing,  "  I  thought 
the  man  who  reproached  me  for  my  return  to  Me- 
thone, the  only  good  deed  I  ever  performed,  must  be  a 
—  Boeotian !" 

Socles  did  not  know  what  to  answer  and,  seeing 
him  stand  there  with  his  mouth  wide  open,  an  image 
of  Boeotian  stupidity,  the  whole  assembly  burst  into  a 
roar  of  laughter,  so  scornful,  noisy,  deafening  in  its 
mirth,  that  it  seemed  as  if  every  stone  in  the  theatre 
was  laughing. 

Socles    stood    for  a  moment  as   though    paralyzed 


3o8  PICTURES    OF     HELLAS. 

with  bewilderment.  Then,  wrapping  his  mantle  around 
him,  he  started  with  crimson  face  for  the  nearest  en- 
trance, slipping  through  the  crowd,  stridmg  over  empty- 
places  in  the  stone  benches,  and  forcing  his  way- 
through  the  groups  in  the  passages.  It  was  done  so 
quickly  that  it  looked  as  if  the  fat  little  man  was  blown 
away  over  the  seats  by  the  unbridled  laughter  of  the 
throng. 

"Why,  why,  how  he  jumps!"  shouted  the  smith, 
shaking  with  glee  as,  fairly  convulsed  with  merriment, 
he  loudly  slapped  his  thigh. 

"  Lycon  has  made  Socles  a  deer !"  cried  a  second 
voice. 

*'  He  skips  like  a  discus  behind  the  mark !"  added 
a  third. 

When  silence  was  partially  restored,  the  chief  mag- 
istrate put  Polycles'  proposal  to  vote.  All  raised  their 
hands  except  Philopator.  But  when  the  smith,  who 
still  kept  an  eye  on  him,  cleared  his  throat  loudly  and 
looked  askance  at  him,  Philopator's  hand  also  rose, 
though  slowly  and  reluctantly. 

The  chief  magistrate,  a  white-haired  old  man  of 
venerable  aspect,  embraced  Lycon  in  the  presence  of 
the  whole  assembly  and  said  to  him  in  a  tone  so  loud 
and  distinct  that  amid  the  deep  silence  it  was  heard  in 
the  most  distant  seats : 

"  You  are  now  a  citizen  of  Methone  and  a  guest  of 
the  Prytaneium.  May  you  have  happiness  and  pros- 
perity." 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  309 


XIII. 

The  next  day  Polycles  sent  by  a  trustworthy  mes- 
senger a  letter  to  the  ship-owner  in  Athens  who  had 
been  the  demarch  of  Lycon's  district.  The  wine- 
dealer  knew  him,  for  the  latter  had  visited  Methone 
more  than  once  in  his  ship.  Ten  days  after  the  answer 
came,  stating  that  if  Lycon  would  pay  a  fine  of  ten 
minae  his  name  would  be  erased  from  the  list  of  citi- 
zens, thereby  avoiding  any  legal  prosecution. 

At  this  message  Lycon  drew  a  deep  breath,  like  a 
man  who  has  reached  dry  land  after  fighting  a  long 
time  for  his  life  among  the  waves. 

"The  gods  be  praised!"  he  exclaimed.  "  Now,  for 
the  first  time,  I  can  use  my  liberty  as  a  thing  which 
belongs  to  me,  and  which  no  man  has  a  right  to  take 
away." 

Myrtale  embraced  Polycles,  and  said  with  her 
brightest  smile  : 

"  So  you,  too,  are  a  benefactor !  Have  you  not 
saved  the  city's  deliverer  from  becoming  a  slave  in  a 
strange  place  ?" 

A  few  days  after  Lycon,  attended  by  Conops,  made 
an  excursion  to  the  neighboring  city  of  Ormenium,  the 
place  where  he  had  been  a  slave  before  he  fled  to  Po- 


310  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

seidon's  altar  in  Methone.  In  Ormenium  he  visited  his 
former  master,  a  physician,  and  remained  a  long  time 
with  him.  On  his  departure  the  physician  accom- 
panied him  part  of  the  way  to  Methone  and,  as 
they  took  leave  of  each  other,  he  asked  Lycon  if  he 
was  serious  in  the  request  he  had  made  him.  When 
Lycon  answered  in  the  attinnative,  the  doctor  laughed 
and  shook  his  head  as  though  it  was  very  extraor- 
dinary. "  Take  it  then,"  he  said,  handing  him  some- 
thing wrapped  in  cloth,  which  Lycon  carefully  con- 
cealed in  the  folds  of  his  robe. 

After  having  been  elected  a  citizen  of  Methone, 
Lycon  had  gone  to  live  in  the  house  in  the  Street  of 
the  Bakers.  Much  of  the  furniture  had  been  ruined  by 
the  flood  so,  with  the  help  of  Myrtale's  nurse,  he  was 
obliged  to  provide  the  women's  apartment  with  many 
things  ere  a  bride  could  be  received  and  a  new  house- 
hold established. 

One  day,  early  in  the  morning,  the  old  mansion 
was  adorned  with  garlands  and  the  door,  especially, 
was  decked  and  surrounded  with  ropes  of  flowers  deco- 
rated with  tassels  of  blossoms.  Polycles'  house,  the 
bride's  present  home,  was  ornamented  in  the  same 
way. 

Darkness  had  scarcely  closed  in,  when  the  roll  of 
wheels  and  the  hum  of  many  voices  were  heard  out- 
side of  the  door  of  the  latter  dwelling.  Accompanied 
by  a  numerous  train,  a  chariot  drawn  by  white  mules 
stopped  before  the  door,  ready  to  bear  the  bride  home. 
Lycon  and  his  chosen  bridesman,  Polycles,  entered  the 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  3II 

house  and  received  from  the  hand  of  an  elderly  female 
relative  the  closely-veiled  bride  to  conduct  hereto  the 
chariot,  where  each  took  a  seat  beside  the  muffled 
figure. 

The  nuptial  torches  were  lighted,  and  the  proces- 
sion started.  The  flames  cast  their  red  glare  over  the 
magnificent  holiday  robes ;  the  flutes  sounded,  and  the 
hymeneal  hymns  echoed  far  through  the  stillness  of  the 
evening. 

The  inhabitants  had  all  gathered  outside  the  doors 
of  their  houses,  and  within  the  dusky  vestibules  ap- 
peared the  heads  of  male  and  female  slaves.  All  who 
were  passing  stopped  and  greeted  the  procession  with 
the  words  :  "  Happiness  and  prosperity  !" 

"  How  peaceful  and  beautiful  it  is  here,"  whispered 
Lycon  to  his  bride.  "  In  Athens,  on  the  contrary,  on 
such  an  evening  there  is  more  noise  and  bustle  than 
usual.  Every  bridal  procession  is  surrounded  by  beg- 
gars, carrying  tame  crows  in  their  hands." 

"  Crows  ?"  repeated  Myrtale  in  surprise. 

"  It  is  really  so,"  replied  Lycon,  smiling.  "  Among 
the  Athenians  the  crow  is  the  bird  sacred  to  bridals, 
and  when  a  beggar  carries  one  in  his  hand  no  one  can 
forbid  him  to  follow  the  procession  into  the  house,  to 
sing  the  ancient  vulgar  crow-song  and  then  make  him- 
self at  home." 

On  reaching  home  the  wedded  pair,  according  to 
custom,  were  overwhelmed  with  a  shower  of  little 
cakes,  figs,  dried  grapes,  and  small  coins  —  emblemati- 
cal of  the  prosperity  to  be  expected. 


312  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

The  festal  hall  was  hghted  by  tripods  bearing  nu- 
merous lamps ;  on  one  side  stood  tables  for  the  men, 
on  the  other  for  the  women.  Among  the  guests  were 
the  old  chief  magistrate  who  had  presided  at  the  popu- 
lar assembly,  the  citizens  who  had  been  on  the  most 
intimate  terms  with  Simonides,  and  some  of  the  female 
relatives  of  the  bride.  Young  slaves  in  new  garments, 
with  purple  fillets  around  their  hair,  placed  between 
the  couches  little  tables  bearing  favorite  dishes. 

When  the  wedding  cakes  were  eaten  it  was  nearly 
midnight.  The  oldest  female  relative  now  led  the 
young  couple  across  the  peristyle  to  the  quiet  sleeping 
room.  All  the  guests  followed,  and  the  nuptial  hymn 
was  sung  once  more  oatside  of  the  closed  door.  But 
when  the  last  visitor  had  gone  and  the  porter  closed 
the  heavy  house-door  with  a  noise  that  echoed  through 
the  peristyle,  Lycon  clasped  Myrtale's  hand,  saying : 

"  That  noise  is  dearer  to  me  than  the  notes  of  the 
nuptial  hymn.  Now  we  are  alone ;  now  I  have  you 
forever." 

He  drew  her  towards  him  and  his  lips  sought  hers, 
but  Myrtale,  reared  in  the  seclusion  of  the  virgin-cham- 
ber, had  never  been  alone  with  any  man,  and  blushing 
deeply,  averted  her  face. 

Lycon  took  the  clay  lamp,  shaped  like  a  couch  on 
which  lay  a  sleeping  Eros,  and  pointing  to  the  little 
god,  said : 

"  The  love  that  fills  my  breast  will  never  slumber 
until  my  hair  is  white  and  my  back  bowed  with  age. 
It  would  be  an  evil  omen  if  I  let  this  lamp  burn  on  our 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  313 

bridal  night.  Neither  now  nor  in  the  future  shall  it 
shine  for  us." 

With  these  words,  he  flung  it  down  so  that  it  was 
broken  in  the  fall  and  lay  shattered  on  the  tiled  floor. 

In  the  intense  darkness  which  had  surrounded 
them,  he  drew  Myrtale  to  his  breast.  His  heart 
throbbed  as  it  never  had  before,  and  the  gloom 
seemed  filled  with  little  dancing  flames  like  those  of  the 
broken  lamp.  With  the  perfume  from  Myrtale's  hair, 
he  felt  as  if  he  were  breathing  an  atmosphere  of  warm, 
ardent  youth,  and  in  the  silence  which  Eros  commands 
his  mouth  again  sought  the  small,  fresh  lips. 

This  time  Myrtale  did  not  avert  her  face. 


XIV. 

Time  passes  swiftly  to  the  happy ;  ere  they  realized 
it  a  year  had  gone  by. 

One  day  every  door  in  the  house  was  adorned  with 
an  olive  garland  —  a  son  had  been  born  to  its  owner. 
Lycon  said  that  the  child  should  be  reared.  The 
father  was  at  liberty  to  expose  or  even  kill  it. 

The  infant  was  carried  by  the  midwife  around  the 
blazing  household  altar.  Parents,  relatives,  and  even 
slaves  gave  it  a  multitude  of  presents,  principally  pla- 
tagai,  children's  rattles. 


314  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

At  the  great  sacrificial  banquet  on  the  tenth  day 
after  the  boy's  birth,  Lycon,  to  Myrtale's  dehght,  named 
the  child  Simonides. 

Lycon  took  pride  in  enlarging  his  dead  master's 
business,  but  never  commenced  any  great  enterprise 
without  having  consulted  the  clever  and  experienced 
Polycles.  On  the  day  that  the  latter  completed  his 
sixtieth  year,  Lycon,  to  his  great  joy,  gave  him  the 
vineyard  which,  in  his  opinion,  produced  the  best  wine 
in  Thessaly. 

This  present  had  cost  Lycon  more  than  Polycles 
ever  knew.  When  he  first  spoke  of  it  to  Myrtale,  she 
eagerly  opposed  the  plan  and  made  many  objections. 

"  Polycles  is  rich  enough,"  she  said. 

"  But  not  too  rich  to  have  this  gift  please  him." 

"  It  is  a  man's  duty  to  bequeath  what  he  possesses 
to  his  children." 

"  It  is  also  a  man's  duty  to  show  his  gratitude  to 
one  who  has  done  him  many  kindnesses  and  helped 
make  him  prosperous." 

"  So  you  will  give  Polycles  the  vineyard  ?" 

"  I  shall." 

"  Even  against  my  wish  ?" 

"  You  forget,  dear  one,  that  but  for  Polycles  I 
should  have  had  nothing." 

The  blood  rushed  into  Myrtale's  cheeks  and  her 
eyes  flashed. 

"  And  you  forget,"  she  said,  "  that  everything  you 
possess  is  mine." 


LYCON    WITH    THE     BIG    HAND.  315 

The  words  had  scarcely  escaped  her  Hps  ere  she 
regretted  them. 

Lycon  passed  his  huge  hand  over  his  face,  rose, 
and  left  her. 

Myrtale  stole  after  him.  She  saw  him  cross  the 
peristyle  and  enter  a  little  room  where  part  of  the  fur- 
niture was  kept.  Through  the  door,  which  stood  ajar, 
she  watched  him  open  a  box  and  take  out  something 
wrapped  in  cloth.  But,  as  she  cautiously  pushed  the 
door  in  order  to  see  better,  her  shadow  fell  on  Lycon's 
arm  and  he  turned. 

"  What  have  you  there  ?"  asked  Myrtale,  slightly 
confused  at  being  discovered. 

"  What  is  mine  —  it  belongs  to  no  one  else." 

Myrtale  understood  the  reproof.  Her  eyes  filled 
with  tears  as  she  sank  at  Lycon's  feet  and  clasped  his 
knees. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  whispered  humbly,  "  forget  my 
wicked  words." 

"  Forget  them  —  I  cannot.  But  I  will  treat  you  as 
if  you  had  never  uttered  them." 

Myrtale  still  remained  on  her  knees;  Lycon  raised 
her  and  she  pressed  her  lips  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  What  have  you  there  ?"  she  timidly  repeated. 

"  A  peacemaker.     'Ihe  image  of  a  good  sjMrit." 

"  Let  me  see  it." 

"  No,"  replied  T.ycon,  wra])ping  the  cloth  closer. 
"  If  any  one  else  should  look  at  the  image  it  would 
lose  its  power.  So  promise  me  that  you  will  never,  — 
either  now  or  in  future  —  ask  to  see  it." 


3l6  PICTURES    OF    HELLAS. 

Myrtale  pointed  to  an  ivory  couch  which  stood  in 
the  httle  room ;  Lycon  reclined  upon  it,  and  she  took 
her  seat  on  the  edge  at  his  side. 

"  What  harm  would  it  do  if  I,  your  wife,  should  see 
it  ?"  she  whispered  coaxingly,  putting  her  arm  around 
Lycon's  neck. 

"  I  have  told  you,"  replied  Lycon.  "  Do  what  I 
ask." 

"  Well  then,"  murmured  Myrtale  sighing,  "  I  prom- 
ise." 

But  at  the  same  moment  she  turned  pale,  as  if  she 
felt  a  sudden  chill. 

"  Confess !"  she  cried  in  a  strangely  altered  tone. 
"  It  is  the  picture  of  an  Athenian  woman." 

Lycon  shrank  from  the  fierce  expression  of  her  face 
and,  ere  he  could  prevent  it,  she  had  seized  the  little 
article  which  he  had  laid  on  the  edge  of  the  couch  in 
front  of  her. 

She  tore  off  the  cloth  with  her  teeth.  A  clumsy 
square  bit  of  iron  appeared.  She  turned  and  twisted  it 
in  her  hands  until,  on  one  end,  she  discovered  the 
letter  K  formed  of  three  raised  lines. 

It  was  the  stamp  of  the  brand  Lycon  bore  on  his 
shoulder. 

Myrtale  instantly  understood  why  he  kept  the 
rough  bit  of  iron.  To  him,  as  he  had  said,  it  was  the 
image  of  a  good  spirit. 

By  keeping  this  sign  of  his  humiliation,  he  not  only 
crushed  all  arrogance,  but  learned  to  judge  mildly, 
govern    himself,  and   become    a  better   man.     By  re- 


LYCON    WITH    THE    BIG    HAND.  317 

membering  that  he  had  been  a  slave,  he  made  others 
forget  it. 

Myrtale  felt  a  new  emotion.  Her  heart  swelled 
with  affection,  and  throwing  herself  into  her  husband's 
arms,  she  covered  his  face  with  tears  and  kisses. 

"  The  gods  be  praised  for  what  has  happened !"  she 
exclaimed.  "  To-day  you  have  become  doubly  dear 
to  me !     For  the  first  time  I  know  you  wholly." 


Lycon  and  Myrtale  filled  the  place  of  children  to 
the  lonely  Polycles,  and  he  was  never  happier  than 
when  they  visited  him  in  the  quiet  evening  hours. 

The  hillock  in  the  garden,  which  had  been  Simon- 
ides'  favorite  spot  and  where  his  monument  stood,  was 
the  goal  of  their  walks,  and  when  they  had  offered 
their  homage  to  the  dead  man  by  adorning  his  grave 
with  flowers,  they  sat  down  on  a  bench  among  a  group 
of  tall  plane-trees  to  gaze  over  the  city  and  country. 

One  evening,  when  the  distant,  sun-illumined  moun- 
tains of  Pherae  were  gleaming  more  brightly  than  ever 
through  the  twilight,  Lycon  exclaimed  : 

"  Simonides  was  right !  Where  is  there  a  spot 
more  beautiful  than  this  ?" 

Myrtale  looked  him  in  the  face  and  suddenly 
asked  : 

"  Do  you  never  wish  yourself  back  in  Athens  ?" 

Polycles  raised  his  eyebrows.  In  his  opinion  this 
was  evidently  a  very    difficult    question.     But    Lycon 


3^8 


PICTURES     OF     HELLAS. 


found  the  answer  easy.     Clasping  Myrtale's  hand,  he 
said  : 

"  How  can  you  ask  ?     In  Athens  I  was  gay ;  here 
I  am  happy." 


^SU 


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